Myra's Choices
by Hank's Lady
Summary: Modern day story of Myra, beginning with her escape from Hank's employment and her new life with Horace, but all isn't quite what it seems in the new Bing household. Rated for love scenes and minor references to "substances".
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the Dr Quinn characters – just borrowing them for a little fun.

This is a 21st Century Colorado Springs and the story of Myra and the choices she makes, beginning with her escape from the Gold Nugget Nightclub and the clutches of the awful Hank. But a later decision, made when she thinks she has no other option leads to the unexpected.

A little warning: rated M for love scenes and some references to drug use (not in much detail) in one or two chapters, linked to 21st century prostitution (this does start with the sordidness of poor Myra's beginnings after all).

...

CHAPTER ONE

30 DECEMBER 1999 - COLORADO SPRINGS

In the centre of town the Gold Nugget Nightclub was getting ready to open at six. They operated as a simple bar until ten, at which time the DJ started up and the club pumped away until three or four in the morning.

The owners, Hank Lawson and Jake Slicker, leaned on the bar sipping whiskey, barking orders at the harassed barmaids as they replenished the supply of spirits, sliced limes, opened fresh boxes of potato chips and nuts and gave the tables in the booths along the wall a last wipe before the evening's customers flocked in.

In the corner two girls sat on bar stools waiting to be summoned; Myra and Emma, dressed in too-short skirts, skimpy tops and high heels with heavy make up and their hair teased and lacquered to within an inch of its life.

"I hate New Year," Myra sighed. "It'll be bad enough tonight, but tomorrow'll be hell."

"What's so bad about it?" Emma asked, having only worked in the club for the past six months.

Myra shrugged. "I dunno, I think it's the atmosphere. You know, everyone lookin' forward to the new year, all full of hopes and dreams and too much liquor. What have we got to look forward to? It's gonna be a whole new century and I'm still where I was five years ago."

"Speak for yourself, I got plenty to look forward to," Emma said. "I'm savin' every penny. This time next year I'm gonna be outta here. I'm lookin' at startin' up my own business."

"Doin' what?" Myra turned tired and haunted eyes on the younger girl, wishing she had something to aim for. All she had was dear sweet Horace from the Fedex office who said he loved her, but was afraid to stand up to Hank and take her away and she herself hadn't managed to pluck up the courage to walk out either. She had tried it once and Hank had dragged her back again. It was hopeless and at this rate she would be working in this place until she was too old to turn tricks any more.

"I'm gonna make lingerie, ya know, real tasteful stuff," said Emma. "I sew real good, it's all gonna be one-off items, sold through a website so I won't even have to buy or rent a shop. I just need to save enough to get the fabrics sent over from China, buy a computer and have one of those geeks make me a website. I been makin' up some samples and showin' 'em around. Ladies love 'em."

"Sounds good, I hope ya make it," Myra said. She looked back over her shoulder as the club doors opened and the first few keen drinkers wandered in. Most of them were familiar and Emma got up to greet one in particular, a regular customer who always had extra money for his favourite, above what he paid Hank for her.

Myra stayed where she was for perhaps another twenty minutes, hoping it would be some time yet before her night got started, but she was out of luck. Looking across at Hank, she saw his eyes fixed on a newcomer in an expensive suit, a heavy gold chain glinting in the open neck of his shirt and a Rolex wristwatch visible just below his cuff. She closed her eyes briefly, praying that this man would only want to drink and be left in peace.

"Myra!" Her eyes flew open again as Hank hissed at her from the other side of the bar.

"Yes?"

"Smile, will ya? That guy there's got money to spend."

Myra sighed heavily and forced a sexy smile onto her face, turning on the bar stool and crossing her legs, allowing the short skirt to slide further up her thighs. The customer glanced at her and winked as he leaned on the bar to order a drink. Hank waved the barmaid aside and poured the drink himself.

Myra watched unhappily as the two men talked, glancing across at her once or twice and then money changed hands; far too much money for just a double vodka. Then Hank came out from behind the bar and walked over to Myra, grasping her hand and pressing a tiny plastic packet into it.

"Hank, no…." she protested, attempting to pull her hand free. Hank gripped tighter.

"He paid for the whole night and then some, you make sure he gets his money's worth."

"Please…."

"Do a good job, maybe I'll think about givin' ya tomorrow night off," Hank said.

"Tomorrow's New Year's Eve," Myra reminded him, surprised.

"Yeah, I know. Now get to it." He let go of her hand and stood back.

Tucking the little sachet of cocaine into her purse, Myra slid off the stool, smiled provocatively and walked towards the rich man with the vodka. It would be worth it to get a much longed for night off and maybe she could even fool him with the cocaine. Those that liked it always wanted to share, but more often that not if she was careful, she could brush her line back into the little pile of powder while she pretended to bend over it and snort, so long as they were looking the other way. Myra hated drugs and on the few occasions she hadn't managed to avoid being drawn into taking them, she had been terrified and hated the way it made her feel. She just hoped she could get away with it tonight.

That night she was out of luck. The guy, who said his name was Steve, insisted on Myra doing a line first.

"Just to be sure; ya know there's a lot of shit around," he said.

"Hank's stuff is always good," Myra told him.

"Prove it then."

Resigned, Myra laid out a couple of lines, rolled up a ten dollar bill handed to her by Steve and snorted the smaller of the two. Steve watched, smoking a cigarette and sprawling in the chair opposite until he realised Myra wasn't going to suffer any ill effects from the drug and then took his turn.

To Myra's relief after that Steve was greedy and over the next few hours used up the remains of the little packet himself, in between times making repeated and rather rough use of her too. When he eventually got to his feet and dressed, dropping a few bills on the bed as a tip before he left, Myra went into her small en suite, turned the shower on as hot as she could stand it and scrubbed herself vigorously until the water ran cold and her skin tingled from her rough application of the loofah. Afterwards she pulled on her pink fluffy bathrobe, wrapped her hair in a towel and curled up in a chair with a large bag of potato chips. It was over and now she would have New Year's Eve off.

Eventually she fell asleep still in the chair, waking only as daylight filtered in through the half-drawn curtains. Uncurling her stiff legs she got up, stripped the bed and took the linen into the kitchen to wash. Neither Hank nor Emma were up yet and Myra enjoyed a breakfast of toast and peanut butter alone before going back to her room to dress, deciding to get away from the place for the day and do exactly what she liked.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Myra put fresh sheets on the bed and then changed into jeans and a sweater, shoving her feet into long leather boots. She grabbed her jacket and pulled her door open, finding Hank on the other side of it with his hand raised to knock. He rested it on the door jamb instead, blocking her way.

"Where ya goin'?" he asked.

"Out."

"Out where?"

"I dunno, Hank. Shoppin' maybe."

"You might be wantin' this. Your share from last night." He pulled his other hand out of his pocket and handed her a number of folded bills. The one on the outside was a fifty.

Disbelieving, Myra took the money and opened out the fold, noting they were all fifties; six in total. She looked up at Hank in surprise. The deal was that she kept half of her takings, after anything extra the customers paid for chemical enhancement, but even then she hadn't expected three hundred dollars.

Hank grinned. "Make the most of your day off." Then he turned away and went back to his room.

Myra was tempted to go shopping and blow the lot, which was what she often did to cheer herself up. She wandered down the street, glancing in the windows of various stores and daydreaming about new shoes and boots and a fur coat. Then she remembered Emma, saving every spare cent for her own business; her freedom. Maybe if she saved, somehow the money would help her too.

She walked away from the shops and headed into the park, strolling slowly across the grass, watching children playing ball, a group of joggers, an elderly couple walking a dog. All of them had normal lives and she imagined herself as one of them, perhaps enjoying a picnic in this park with Horace, throwing a stick for a dog or pushing a baby buggy.

She didn't really understand how Horace could love her, but he said that he did. It had all started when she and Emma had taken part in a fund-raiser for cancer research. One of the journalists for the local Gazette, Dorothy Jennings, had run an ad asking for people to run a raffle, sell donated goods from stalls, bake cakes or make clothing to sell and so on. Emma had seen it and made a beautiful nightgown for the clothing stall, carefully stitching a tag into the back with her name on it in case the purchaser liked it and wanted more. Myra wasn't good at sewing or cooking, but she had offered to man one of the stalls which happened to be selling toys and games.

Dr Michaela Quinn was one of the main organisers for the event and as well as running various things on the day, she also put up a medical tent in case of emergency. The book stall next to Myra's was being looked after by a tall, rather daft-looking young man who Myra quickly learned was named Horace Bing. He was painfully shy, but by lunch time he had begun to talk to Myra on and off and even bought her a hotdog for lunch and then some icecream.

Later poor Horace had been stung by a bee attracted to the sweetness of his icecream cone and had collapsed behind his table, gasping for breath and suffering what Dr Mike later said was 'falactic shock' or something like that. Myra held his hand and wiped his brow with a damp cloth while Dr Mike injected him with adrenalin and apparently saved his life.

Coming to, Horace gazed up at the angel that was Myra who was cradling his head in her lap and some weeks later claimed that when their eyes met at that moment, he had fallen in love.

It had taken Myra almost three months to pluck up the courage to tell Horace what she did for a living. At first she had merely said she worked in a nightclub. Eventually Horace had asked which one, intending to come by one night to see her and she was forced to admit shamefully that she didn't serve drinks, but herself.

Every last drop of colour had drained out of Horace's face until he looked worse than when that bee stung him, but after some discomfort and bluster, he vowed that it made no difference. He loved Myra and that was all there was to it. He would marry her too if she would have him.

Myra had tried to leave there and then in October, rising early one morning and attempting to sneak out of the apartment with a single suitcase of clothes. She got as far as the street where Horace waited in his beat up old Volkswagen Beetle, but just as they were stowing her case in the little car Hank had appeared, half-dressed and furious. He made short work of Horace, leaving the poor man lying on the sidewalk with two black eyes, a split lip and bleeding nose and dragged Myra back inside, bruising her wrist and almost yanking her arm out of its socket, promising that if she dared to think about leaving again, it would be Myra he went for rather than Horace and he wouldn't stop until she had taken her last breath.

Hank had never hit Myra, but he had a wild temper and she had no doubt that he would hurt her given sufficient provocation. Heartbroken, she abandoned the idea of leaving, but continued to see Horace in secret on her days off, promising him that one day she would be free; it was just going to take some time for her to figure out how to do it. Until then she would just have to put up with things.

Myra realised suddenly that she had stopped walking and was standing alone on the grass, tears trickling down her cheeks. She took a deep breath and wiped them away before heading back towards the town. It was time to do something about her life. It was like a prison sentence with no date set for parole and if she couldn't escape she figured she might as well be dead.

Tomorrow. She would leave tomorrow. New Year's Day and a new life.

Myra stayed out for most of the day, buying herself only a pair of gloves so she had something to show for her outing before heading over to Grace's Diner for lunch. She and Grace had known each other for five years, ever since Hank had brought her from Denver and bought the club with Jake. The diner was just three blocks from the club and Hank often ordered food in from there. Grace was easily as good a cook as the chefs in the top hotel restaurants, but she had no desire to join them. She loved her diner where it sat next to the car lot run by her husband, Robert E and had built up a reputation as the best diner to visit in Colorado Springs. Her tables were never empty and her tip jar always full.

Myra sat down at a small corner table and ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and a coke. Rather than send one of her waitresses Grace brought the order over herself, including a giant fresh baked cookie free of charge. She took the weight off her feet for five minutes and sipped a coffee while she chatted with Myra.

"I don't suppose you're lookin' forward to tonight," she commented.

"Actually, he's givin' me the night off," Myra said with a smile.

"Really?" Grace's eyes widened. "Hank's givin' you the night off on his most profitable night of the year?"

"So he says." Myra still found it hard to believe herself, but if there was one thing Hank did right, it was keep to his word. If he said she could have the night off, he meant it.

"Wonders will never cease. You gonna see the New Year in with Horace?"

"I wish I could. He'll be with his family. I'm gonna see him when I leave here though." Myra bit into the sandwich. "Are you open tomorrow?"

"No, we're shuttin' up shop just like at Christmas. If you're free and fancy a bite though, just drop into the house. I'll be doin' a big roast and it's open house for all our friends."

"Thanks, Grace, I might just do that," Myra said, thinking that if she escaped in one piece the next morning, Grace's house might be the perfect place to run to first off.

Myra finished her lunch, left Grace to it and made her way over to the Fedex office. Horace was working until two o'clock so he would be finishing up by the time she got there. She began to smile as she looked forward to spending a few hours with someone who wouldn't pick at her or judge her or give her orders, but would actually listen to her and hold her hand and gaze at her with love in his eyes. Only one more day and she would be free to be with him all day and every day.

As she arrived at the depot she decided not to tell Horace what she was planning. He would only worry about her and probably wade in like a knight in shining armour only to become a victim of Hank's wrath once again. No, she would wait until she was free, go to Grace's for lunch and then go to him later.

Myra returned to the Gold Nugget just before it opened and went straight up to the apartment. She knew Hank would be down in the bar by now, but she discovered Emma upstairs dressed for the club in hot pants, a halter top and thigh high boots.

"Oh, you're back!" she exclaimed. "Hank's wonderin' where you are."

"He said I could have the day off," Myra said warily, thinking that if he had changed his mind and wanted her to work she would be tempted to walk out now, regardless of what he might do to her.

"Yes I know, he said. He just wanted to know if you're back yet, that's all," said Emma.

"Well, ya can tell him I'm here. I'm gonna take a bath and pamper myself," Myra said, relieved.

"You ain't comin' down to the see the New Year in?" asked Emma.

"No. I've seen too many in down there. This one's just for me." Myra smiled at her and headed for her room.

No one disturbed her for the rest of the evening. She ran a hot bath full of bubbles, switched on the radio, plastered a mud pack on her face and an olive oil based hair mask on her hair and sank into the tub to the neck, eyes closed, breathing in the strawberry-scented steam and dreaming about freedom. It was so close she could almost taste it. Just one more night.

Eventually the water began to cool and she rinsed off the skin and hair products, washed herself with a delicious brown sugar body scrub and climbed out of the water, wrapping herself in the pink fluffy bathrobe. She helped herself to some snacks from the kitchen and then curled up in her room in front of the television to watch everyone else preparing for the new millennium. As midnight came and fireworks erupted on the screen, the noise in the club downstairs rose to a crescendo. Usually the apartment above was insulated from the sounds well enough, but nothing could drown out the noise of New Year celebrations.

Myra got up, switched off the television and shed the bathrobe, then climbed into bed wearing cotton briefs and a strappy top to sleep in. It was a long time since she had a night all to herself and she couldn't wait to stretch out in her freshly made up bed alone, without having to tear the sheets off of it first and spray the pillows with perfume to convince herself no one had been there with her.

She lay awake for a long time, listening to the sounds of the club spilling out into the street as people set off home, still singing and dancing as they went. Gradually the volume of noise decreased and she closed her eyes with a sigh.

Shortly after her eyes flew open again as she heard a gentle tap on the door. A second later it opened and Hank came in. He closed the door quietly behind him and Myra's heart sank.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

"Myra," he whispered. "You awake?"

She considered pretending to be asleep, but knew he would only wake her up so there was no point going through the motions.

"Yes, I'm awake. What do you want, Hank? It's late."

"Yeah, I know. Time for bed." He crossed the room slowly and stretched out beside her. She noticed he was wearing only the pants of his new Armani suit and resisted the urge to jump out of the bed and run away from him. He slid one arm under her neck and the other across her middle, his finger tips stroking up and down her bare arm.

"Hank, I thought ya said I could have the night off," she protested, bracing her hand against his chest as he leaned closer.

"You had the night off. That don't include me."

"I'm real tired," Myra protested.

"Seems to me you're always tired or sick or somethin' when I wanna be with ya," he said. "It's been months; don't ya miss me?"

"Of course I do," said Myra reluctantly. "But I'm sure you'd have much more fun with Emma."

"I don't want Emma; I want you." He bent to kiss her and she turned her head so that his lips only brushed her cheek. She shivered and tried to push him away again.

"Hank, don't," she said as his lips touched her jaw, then her ear, his hand moving from her arm to her chin and forcing her to face him. She opened her mouth to protest again but anything she might have said was smothered by his kiss.

Myra knew there was no getting away from it now. As Hank's lips teased hers and his hands began to slide down her body she did her best to ignore her rising desire, but it was impossible. Hank always did this to her. She hated herself for it, but every time he touched her it was only minutes before she began to melt and give in. She was loath to admit it, but there was no denying he was an expert in the art of seduction and his body did things to her that no one else had ever come close to achieving. She would give in and respond to every kiss, every touch, giving herself to him, always wondering why he had to be such a bastard the rest of the time. If he had even one ounce of kindness in him, she could have loved him. In fact she had loved him at the beginning, until his cruelness had systematically destroyed her feelings and turned her into nothing more than a slave.

She had come with him from Denver with dreams and promises of a new life and business together and soon discovered Hank's ideas were very different from her own. She wasn't his lover or partner, but one of four whom he sold as often as possible and used himself when he felt like it. Rachel and Clare had gone some months back, past their best in Hank's eyes. Myra only wondered that he hadn't found their replacements yet. Meanwhile she and Emma remained although she knew the younger girl didn't hate the job half as much as she did herself. Emma saw it as a means to an end. For Myra, it was all there was. Or at least it had been until she met Horace.

'I hate you, Hank,' Myra thought to herself as she slid her arms around his neck and welcomed him into her bed and her body once more.

An hour later it was over. Myra heaved a sigh of relief, knowing Hank would now leave her in peace. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for him to go so that she could get in the shower and scrub herself all over again. He didn't move and she almost held her breath as she watched the luminous figures on the clock beside her bed count a minute, then another. Ten minutes passed and Hank still lay beside her, a heavy arm resting across her stomach.

"Hank," she whispered.

"Mmm. What?"

"I want to sleep now."

"Me too."

"You like to sleep alone," she reminded him.

"Yeah," he grunted, his arms tightening around her again. He pressed his face into her neck and she felt his warm breath on her throat, the slow thump of his heart against her breast.

"Hank," she protested, trying to push him away. Apparently he wasn't going anywhere. She glared at the top of his head.

"Let me stay," he said softly.

Myra sighed heavily. 'Damn you,' she thought. 'Why are you doing this to me?' It was almost as if he knew what she was planning and was trying to stop her leaving. He had never actually slept the night with her, or with anyone else so far as she knew, at least not since she'd known him. Now he had to go and be all nice and want to snuggle and make her feel like he'd actually be upset when she left. Resigned, she stroked her hand through his hair and closed her eyes again although she doubted she would be able to sleep.

Somehow Myra must have drifted into sleep. She woke some hours later and looked at the little clock again. It was six-thirty and much to her relief she was alone. She got up quickly and went to take a shower, Hank's odd behaviour immediately forgotten as she thought about walking out of the door for the last time with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She pictured the look on Horace's face as he opened the door of his apartment to find her standing there with her suitcase and she smiled as she dried herself and pulled on clean underwear, jeans, shirt and sneakers.

Myra pulled her battered old suitcase out from under the bed and began to pack what was hers. There wasn't much of it. She didn't want any of the sexy clothes Hank had bought her and packed only her jeans and t-shirts, the few summer dresses, plain bras and panties and a couple of pairs of shoes. The case was only half full, but there was nothing else she wanted. She took off the heavy gold locket she had worn for the past five years and placed it on the bedside table, then picked up the little luminous clock and tucked it into the case , covering the lot with the pink bathrobe.

She froze suddenly, her breath catching in her throat as there was a brisk tap on the door.

"Myra?"

"Oh shit," she whispered to herself. She had been hoping she could creep away without a confrontation, but it was too late. He was up and the door began to open as she looked anxiously at it.

Hank was wearing black jeans and an unfastened shirt, his hair wet from the shower. He stopped in the doorway and stared at Myra and the open case on the bed in disbelief.

"What the hell do ya think you're doin'?" His eyes narrowed.

"I'm leavin', Hank." Her voice sounded much steadier and calmer than she felt and her heart thumped as he walked into the room, making her feel like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

"You ain't got the guts."

"Watch me." She broke the eye contact and looked down at the case, closing the lid and zipping up the sides with shaking hands. "I can't work for you any more, Hank. I need my own life."

"You won't have a life without me," he said gruffly.

"I'll have the life I want." She left the case and picked up her brown leather jacket, sliding her arms into the sleeves.

"I won't let ya leave, Myra."

She took a deep breath and faced him again. "You can't stop me, Hank, not this time. I won't do this any more. Do what ya want."

"You know I could kill ya," he said under his breath.

"So what's stoppin' ya?" She held her hands out, palms up. "Go ahead. I'd rather be dead than be your whore any longer."

Hank didn't move and she dropped her hands and picked up the case, then glanced at him again.

"Well?" she prompted.

"Don't go," he said softly. "I love ya."

"You don't know what love is, Hank," she said bitterly. "What kind of a man makes a woman he loves sleep with other men?"

"That's different. It's business."

"Exactly, it's business. That's all it is. You don't love me; you're not capable. All you want is a slave you can sell and make use of whenever it suits ya."

"That ain't true. I don't wanna lose ya, Myra." Hank sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You lost me years ago," said Myra, carrying the case towards the door.

"What about this?" Hank picked up the gold locket from the bedside table and held it out to her. "I bought you this. Your twenty-first birthday. Don't ya remember?"

"I don't want it," said Myra. "Give it to whoever ya get to fill my place."

Hank's face darkened and suddenly he catapulted back up off the bed, hurling the locket as hard as he could across the room so that it smashed into the wall and fell down behind the television stand.

"Then you get out!" he roared. "And don't come crawlin' back when ya realise you ain't good for nothin' else!"

Myra took a step out of the bedroom door a second before Hank kicked it closed with all his strength. The door slammed in her face and then she heard his fist bang into the other side of it. Heart hammering, she dragged the case out of the apartment and closed the door after her, punching the elevator call button. The doors sprang open immediately and she ran inside and pressed the 'down' arrow.

Less than a minute later, Myra stepped out into the street, her knuckles white as she gripped the handle of the suitcase.

"_Myra_!"

She looked up and saw Hank above her, hanging out of the window.

"Goodbye, Hank." She stepped forward to the kerb, her hand out just as a cab approached and it pulled in quickly. She dragged open the door, threw the case inside and herself after it.

"Grace's Diner," she said, leaning back in the seat, tears spilling down her cheeks. It was over. She was free.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

The cab pulled up again a couple of minutes later as it reached the diner.

"Just a dollar, Miss," the driver said.

Myra pulled the bill out of her pocket, passed it to the driver and slid out of the car. It was still only seven-thirty, but she knew Grace wouldn't mind. She lugged the case around the back of the diner to the small house there and rang the bell. She kept brushing her tears away with her free hand, but they continued to spill over. When Grace opened the door a moment later, wearing a bright orange flowery housecoat and fluffy slippers, Myra put the case down, fell into her arms and sobbed.

Grace steered her inside and sat her down on the sofa, cuddling her like a child and shouting instructions to Robert E to fetch the case in, get the Kleenex out of the bathroom and make Myra a cup of tea. Eventually Myra pulled herself together enough to speak and clutched the mug of tea in both hands, sniffing.

"I walked out," she said.

"Did he hurt you?" Grace asked at once.

"No. He didn't touch me." Myra took a deep breath. "He won't come after me now. It's over."

"You sure about that?" asked Robert E.

"He won't follow me, but he don't know I'm here anyhow," Myra said.

"He might. The man's a lunatic," Robert E grunted.

"Well, ya don't know him like I do," said Myra. "Anyhow, ya don't have to worry, I won't be here long. I'm goin' to Horace's. He'll be home from his folks' later."

"You will stay for dinner, though," Grace said.

"I ain't got much of an appetite." Myra pulled a couple of tissues from the box and blew her nose.

"You may have later. At least stay and chat while I cook. You won't wanna go to Horace's all shook up like you are."

Myra nodded. She sat by herself sipping her tea while Grace and Robert E went to their room and dressed. By the time they returned she had stopped shaking and she did her best to stop thinking about Hank and instead look forward to seeing Horace later.

Myra spent most of the morning in the kitchen with Grace, thinking she would probably do well to try and pick up some cooking tips while she was there. She could just about manage to make bacon and eggs without setting fire to the stove, but she'd had no one to teach her and hoped to be able to cook meals for Horace in the future. Now she peeled and chopped vegetables and made mental notes on how Grace prepared the large joint of beef and made gravy.

"Ya know, you can come over the diner any time you like and help in the kitchen while you get used to it," Grace offered. "I can teach ya to make meatloaf and chilli and pies and things."

"Really? That'd be wonderful, Grace, thank you!" Myra said enthusiastically. "We all lived on take-out at the club. If it wasn't from you it was pizza or Chinese or somethin'."

By eleven-thirty various visitors had arrived to share the New Year's Day meal with Grace and Robert E. Dr Mike, her fiancé Sully and two of her adopted children, Colleen and Brian, arrived first.

"Myra! How are you?" Dr Mike said at once. "It's been a long time."

"I'm fine thanks, Dr Mike."

"Have you seen much of Horace?"

Myra beamed. "Actually, we've been seein' quite a bit of each other. I'm goin' over to his place after dinner. He don't know it yet, but I'm gonna move in."

"Have you left the club then?" asked Dr Mike in surprise.

"Just this mornin'."

"I'm glad for you," the doctor said. "Didn't Hank make a fuss about you going?"

"He ain't too pleased." Myra shrugged. "I guess he'll get over it." She didn't feel anywhere near as casual as she sounded. Despite what she had said to Grace and Robert E, she half expected Hank to turn up at any minute, drunk or high and in a raging temper, although she reasoned with herself that he probably wouldn't have guessed she'd come to Grace's.

"Where's Matthew?" Grace asked Dr Mike. "Have they got him workin' today?"

"No, he's sleeping," Dr Mike said. "He worked last night. Can you imagine? Finally got home at nine this morning."

"Must've had a busy night," said Grace.

"He says he and his partner arrested nine people," Dr Mike told them.

Myra thought to herself that it was a good thing the cops hadn't dropped in at the Gold Nugget as they would likely have arrested a fair few more than nine people.

Shortly after, Grace's friend Emily and her children arrived to join in the meal. Emily's husband had died in an accident at work the previous year and although she lived comfortably off of his insurance, she always felt lonely during the holidays and usually arranged to see Grace or Dr Mike or both.

With Grace's house full, the children sat around the kitchen table and the adults used the dining room table and the living room chairs with trays on their laps. Myra eventually began to relax as she ate and drank wine and chattered with the others. She stayed until three o'clock, helping Grace clean the dishes after the meal and promising to drop into the diner in a couple of days to pick up some more cooking tips.

The rest of the visitors planned to stay a while longer, but Sully offered to drive Myra over to Horace's to save her trying to get a cab. They were always few and far between at New Year unless you booked one in advance.

"Thanks, Sully, I appreciate it."

Sully carried the suitcase outside and slung it into the back of his battered Dodge Ram, then opened the passenger door for her. Moments later they were barreling down the street in the direction of the smart new apartment block where Horace lived. Sully parked the pickup in front of the block and lifted the case out of the back.

"Ya want me to wait?" he offered.

"Just until I make sure he's home," Myra said. She went to the panel of buzzers beside the outer door to the block and pressed the one which said 'Bing'.

"Yes?" Horace said a moment later.

"Horace, it's Myra."

"I'll leave ya to it," Sully said and got back into the pickup.

"Thank you!" Myra waved to him and stepped inside as Horace buzzed her in. She took the elevator up to the fifth floor and found Horace waiting at the top, his door standing open behind him.

"Myra!" He beamed from ear to ear and when he saw the case she was carrying, his eyes widened. "You left the club?"

"Yes." She dropped the case and ran into his open arms. "It's over. I'm never goin' back."

"He didn't try to stop ya?" Horace said in wonder.

"No. He just made a few empty threats."

Horace let go of her and picked up her case. "Is this all ya got?"

"It's all I want." She followed him into the apartment.

"Well, I'm gonna buy you all new things," Horace said. "Anythin' you want. We'll go shoppin' tomorrow." He hovered outside his bedroom door, glancing from it to the guest room. "Uh...where do ya wanna...?"

"I was kinda hopin' you'd want me to stay in your room," Myra said with a smile.

"I do! I just...you know, I thought maybe you'd want some time to yourself or somethin'."

"No. I want some time with you, Horace."

Beaming, Horace pushed his door open and laid her case on his bed. "Why don't you unpack your things? There's some space in the wardrobe there, and the drawers in that chest. I'll make some coffee."

He went into the kitchen and Myra unpacked her few things and put them away, hanging the pink bathrobe on the hook on the back of the bathroom door, beside Horace's blue and red checkered dressing gown. Then she went into the living room just as he appeared with a tray holding two cups of coffee and a plate of cookies. They sat on the sofa and Horace held her hand.

"I can't believe you're really here," Horace said. "I've been longin' for this day to come."

"Me too." She squeezed his hand. "I love ya, Horace."

"I love you too, honey. Now I can do this proper." He let go of her hand, slid off the sofa and rested on one knee, pulling a small box out of his pocket. "Myra, will ya be my wife?"

Myra looked at the engagement ring sitting in the box - a square cut ruby surrounded by small diamonds. "Oh, Horace!" she gasped. "It's beautiful! Of course I'll be your wife."

Horace picked up the ring and carefully slid it onto her finger before getting off his knees and sitting beside her again. Then he drew her into his arms and kissed her gently. "I'm gonna make ya so happy, Myra," he promised.

"I know you are, Horace." She hugged him tightly and determinedly pushed the Gold Nugget and Hank to the furthest corner of her mind.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

That night when the time came to go to bed, Myra had something of a surprise. She showered, dried her hair and put on her only decent nightgown, then climbed into bed and waited for Horace. He was perhaps half an hour in the bathroom and eventually emerged wearing striped pyjamas buttoned to the neck and looking terrified.

"Are you alright, Horace?" Myra asked.

Horace slid into the bed and sat bolt upright, not touching her.

"I...uh...I ain't exactly done this before, Myra," he confessed, reddening.

"Oh, don't worry, I've had plenty of fellas," blurted out Myra and then slapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, I didn't mean..." She reddened even more than Horace.

"I know what ya meant, Myra," Horace said stiffly. "Let's not think about that." He slid down under the covers and reached out to turn off the bedside lamp. He leaned over and gave Myra a brief kiss on the cheek before rolling away from her again. "Ya know, I'm really quite tired with all the excitement today."

"Alright, Horace. Goodnight," said Myra.

"Goodnight, Myra."

Myra lay awake for sometime afterwards, listening to Horace's gentle snores and mentally kicking herself over and over for not being able to hold her tongue. The poor man must have been mortified, but she hadn't expected him to be a virgin at twenty-eight. She supposed she would just have to be patient and gentle next time.

The next time came the following morning. When Myra woke up, Horace was lying facing her, a smile on his face.

"Mornin', my love," he said softly.

"Mornin', Horace. Did ya sleep well?"

"Like the dead. Wide awake now though." He reached up a hand and stroked her hair. "Ya look real pretty, Myra."

"I ain't even wearin' any makeup," she protested.

"I don't like makeup. You got nice skin, ya shouldn't cover it up with that stuff." Horace leaned closer and kissed her. Myra slid her arms around him, encouraging him to kiss and touch her. He wasn't inclined to take off her nightgown or his pyjamas, but after some initial fumbling he made love to her slowly and carefully as if he thought she might break. It was nice; gentle and considerate and nice, but there were no fireworks.

'Nice is good', Myra thought. 'Horace loves me; I'm lucky I found him.'

During the next few days, Myra and Horace planned an engagement party in order to make a proper announcement to all their friends. Horace wanted it to be as soon as possible, but booking a venue quickly was easier said than done. As they sat over coffee at Grace's on Saturday morning, Grace happened to overhear their discussion.

"Forgive me for listenin' in, but if you're havin' trouble findin' a place for the party, you could have it here," she said. "I'd be happy to close the place for a few hours. The tables could all be moved up one end to make room for dancin' and I could do ya some food."

"Really?" Myra's face lit up.

"That'd be real nice of ya, Grace," Horace said. "How much would ya want for it?"

"Ah, well, I won't charge ya for usin' the place," Grace said at once. "Just the cost of ingredients for the food. Fifty bucks, maybe?"

"Done!" said Horace at once. "When can we have it?"

"Any time ya like, just let me know and I'll put a sign up so we don't get customers wantin' feedin'."

"We were thinkin' two weeks from today," Myra said. "Is that too soon?"

"Nope! Too soon'd be tomorrow," said Grace with a smile. She pulled out a notepad and sat down. "Why don't we run through some ideas for party food?"

Myra and Horace stayed another hour, deciding on buffet style food for the party guests. Grace promised to make a cake too, as a gift.

"How many people's comin'?" she asked then.

"Not that many. We ain't got that many friends," Myra said. "I guess it'll be Horace's friends from work..."

He nodded at this. "Four guys and their wives or girlfriends."

"Dr Mike and Sully and the children, Mr Bray and the girls from the supermarket," Myra went on. "Who else? Emily and her kids."

"You ain't thinkin' of askin' no one from the Gold Nugget, are ya?" said Horace.

"Of course not," Myra replied. She would have liked to invite Emma, but thought it likely that either Hank wouldn't allow her to go or would insist on accompanying her and making a scene.

"Dorothy Jennings," put in Horace suddenly. "I'd forgotten her."

"Say about forty to be safe?" suggested Grace. "What about music? You are gonna have music."

"One of the guys at work DJs at weekends to earn extra money," Horace said. "I'll ask him."

"We should invite the Reverend," Myra said suddenly. "He's gonna marry us after all."

"Have ya set a date yet?" asked Grace.

"Not yet. We really wanted to get married in church, but we spoke to the Reverend and he says they're booked up months in advance. Unless we have a Thursday or somethin'. It might have to be the registry office. We ain't decided."

"It'll be arranged before the engagement party, one way or another," Horace said. "Then we can tell everyone."

When Myra and Horace left Grace's, Horace took Myra shopping for some new clothes. They wandered around the mall picking up some tops, skirts, pants and a coat for Myra. They finished by looking in a boutique for a dress that she could wear for the engagement party. She tried on half a dozen and found one in green which was perfect and brought out the colour of her eyes. It was a strapless fitted style with a low back, the skirt reaching halfway down her calves with a split in one side which reached a few inches above the knee. The smooth fabric had a slight shimmer to it. Myra turned around and around in front of the mirror admiring it, then stepped out of the changing room to show Horace.

"Myra!" he hissed under his breath. "It barely covers you up! You left the Gold Nugget, remember?"

Myra's face fell. "Ya really don't like it?" she said, disappointed and feeling strangely ashamed.

"I think this is much more suitable," Horace told her, holding up one of the previous dresses she had tried on. It was a square necked design in red with short sleeves and a flared skirt. "It matches your ring too," he added, smiling winningly.

"Alright, Horace, I'll get that one," Myra said. "It looked real nice too." She changed out of the lovely green dress and put her jeans and sweater back on while Horace took the red dress to the checkout. It didn't occur to her at the time to think that Hank had always told her what to wear too.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

The following morning, Horace took Myra to church. She had never been inside the church and sat there in awe listening to the service. The building was on the original site from when a church was first constructed there in the early Nineteenth Century and there was a photograph of the original wood building in the porch. Gradually the wood had been replaced with stone over the years and the whole expanded to accommodate a two hundred strong congregation.

After the service, Myra and Horace stayed to chat to the Reverend Timothy Johnson about their wedding and confirmed they would book the registry office. The Reverend telephoned a colleague who worked there and discovered that amazingly, Valentine's Day was available.

"Some couples are marrying there in the morning, but the afternoon is free as they had a cancellation," he said, his hand over the receiver. "Would two o'clock suit?"

Myra and Horace glanced at each other and both nodded. The Reverend confirmed the date and hung up the phone.

"You know, if you had your hearts set on the church, you may have your marriage blessed any time during the usual Sunday service," he said to them. "Just let me know."

With the date set, the couple had only a month to arrange everything else. Horace spoke to his DJ friend at work about the entertainment, Myra bought blank invitations from the newsagent, wrote them out and delivered them by hand. Horace had another friend who was a keen amateur photographer who confirmed he would be happy to take the wedding photos. They reserved a small venue for the wedding breakfast and booked Grace for the catering as well as for the engagement party and Myra asked Dr Mike's adopted daughter, Colleen, to be her bridesmaid. Then Dr Mike and Colleen accompanied Myra on a shopping trip for wedding outfits.

"Are you going to have a proper wedding dress?" Dr Mike asked. "Some people do for registry offices and some don't; it's upto you."

"I don't know," Myra sighed. "I don't think I should wear white though. Maybe pink? Pink's my favourite colour."

"How about a pink dress then; you could have one styled like a wedding dress with a veil and everything, but shorter, say calf length," suggested Dr Mike.

"Could I wear pink too?" asked Colleen.

"Of course, maybe a darker shade. Horace gave me three hundred dollars for both outfits, do ya think that'll be enough?"

"Hmm. Let's see what we can do," Dr Mike said doubtfully.

Three hundred dollars was nowhere near enough, however, they did pretty well in the end. Myra found the exact pink dress she liked on the 'end of line' rail for a hundred and fifty dollars. It came with a small matching hat and veil and she managed to find shoes too for only an additional forty. They left the shop with Myra's outfit and continued to a fabric shop where they purchased a pattern Colleen liked, fabric in a darker shade of pink and then went to see Emily, an accomplished stitcher, who said she could easily make up the dress for Colleen before the wedding and her time would be her gift to Myra.

With Myra's preparations done, she spent a few hours on several mornings helping Grace out at the diner and learning how to cook. Horace wasn't a bad cook, but Myra wanted to be able to cook meals for him so he could come home from work, put his feet up and just wait for her to serve him his dinner. She wrote notes and practised, but found the only problem was that Grace never weighed anything; she put random handfuls or spoonfuls of ingredients into whatever she was making and the result was always perfect and mouthwatering. She did however give Myra a recipe book and a set of kitchen scales and let her make a vast pot of chilli for the diner one day. The recipe in the book was for four servings.

"How many do ya want again?" Myra asked.

"Forty."

"_Forty_? How do ya do this every day?"

Grace left her to it and set to making a variety of other recipes while Myra carefully weighed out the ingredients for ten times what the book said. She was sure the chilli would turn out to be inedible, but much to her surprise it was very good.

"I'm gonna make this for Horace's supper," she said, beaming after Grace tasted it and pronounced it 'as good as mine'.

"Why don't ya take some of this and just heat it up later?" suggested Grace.

"No, I wanna start from scratch again and cook just for Horace."

She left Grace's before lunch and headed for the little supermarket with a shopping list to buy the ingredients for chilli, plus rice and a side salad. She ran into Loren Bray, the owner, while she was picking up red beans and he walked around with her for a few minutes, chatting. Only a week ago, if Myra had called it at the store Loren had refused to give her the time of day, but now she had left the Gold Nugget and was planning to get married he was as nice as pie.

"Why don't ya take a dessert too?" he suggested. "This key lime pie here goes well after chilli." He picked up a box.

"Ya think Horace will like it?"

"He's bought it himself plenty of times," Loren said with a smile.

"Alright, thank you, Mr Bray."

"Loren."

Myra set off home shortly after with the ingredients, opened out the recipe book and set about cooking her first meal for her fiance. She halved everything in the recipe and all was going well until she forgot to halve the amount of chilli powder and dumped in the full amount.

"Oh shit!" she gasped, realising her mistake straight away. She tasted the simmering mixture hopefully and found it so hot that the chilli drowned out the flavour of everything else. "Oh good grief." She gulped water, her mouth on fire and then rang Grace.

"I put too much chilli in," she panted.

"Drink milk," said Grace at once. "And put chocolate in the chilli."

"_Chocolate_? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Dark chocolate. If you're doin' half of that recipe you'll need about an ounce or maybe two, that's all. Put one in and taste it," instructed Grace.

"Alright. Thanks, Grace." She hung up, grabbed a carton of milk out of the refrigerator and gulped some straight from the container, relieved when the burning in her mouth began to subside. There was dark chocolate in the refrigerator too and she carefully weighed out an ounce, chopped it finely and sprinkled it into the chilli mixture. After a little taste she was surprised that the heat had reduced a touch although she couldn't actually taste the chocolate.

"Weird," she muttered and added another ounce. It tasted perfect, even better than her first effort at the diner. Delighted, she set about cooking rice and making a fresh green salad. By the time Horace arrived home the meal was ready. He came in and gave her a warm kiss.

"What's cookin'?" he asked her. "Smells real good."

"Chilli," said Myra. "I hope ya like it. I learned off Grace."

"Chilli's one of my favourites," Horace said with a smile.

She served up the meal and watched anxiously as Horace took his first bite.

"This is amazin' chilli, Myra!" he exclaimed, much to her relief. "What d'ya put in this?"

"Just the usual stuff, I guess," Myra said casually, resisting the urge to jump up and down. She was already planning a stew for the next day.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Those first two weeks of Myra's new life flew by and she began to feel as if she belonged. Already it was the day of the engagement party and she spent most of the day in a state of excitement until three-thirty when it was time for Horace to take her to the diner. The guests had been invited for four o'clock and they needed to be there first to greet everyone. Myra put on the red dress Horace had bought her and a matching pair of shoes she had picked up later, then pinned her hair up neatly and added the faintest touch of lipstick. Horace was right of course, the dress did match her ring and it was beautiful fabric. She just didn't think it did much for her colouring.

Grace had decorated the diner with red and white balloons and streamers and a huge banner with 'Happy Engagement' on it. The chairs had all been positioned around two sides of the building, leaving the centre free for dancing. The tables were pushed together at the far end to make a large buffet table which was laden with party food and Horace's friend Tom had set up his equipment in one corner with a mixing desk, speakers and lights.

By four-fifteen everyone who had been invited had arrived and people milled around with plates of food, chattering and offering congratulations to the couple. Tom played a selection of music quietly in the background until six, when the Reverend called for attention and gave a short speech, finishing with wishing Myra and Horace a wonderful wedding day and a happy life together.

"So when's the weddin'?" Loren Bray called out with a grin. "Ya set a date yet?"

"We've been talkin' to the Reverend," said Myra, slipping her hand into Horace's and squeezing it. "It's six months before we can get a date for the church, but we can get married in the registry office in a month. We can always get a blessin' in church later. The registry office'll do for now, at least we'll be married. It's gonna be on Valentine's Day."

"I'll be sure to put it on my calendar," Hank drawled from the open door at that moment. "Assumin' I'm invited."

Myra's breath caught in her throat and her nails dug into Horace's palm. What was he doing here? No one seemed to have even noticed him until he spoke.

Horace straightened his shoulders and glared at the intruder. "As a matter of fact you ain't, Hank," he said.

Hank took a few steps into the room. He lurched drunkenly and put his hand out to steady himself on one of the pillars. "What kinda gratitude is that, Horace?" he slurred. "It's the least ya can do after stealin' what was mine."

"She never was yours, Hank," said Horace boldly.

"She was mine plenty of times," grinned Hank.

Several people gasped and Myra felt her face reddening. Her heart thumped and she prayed that someone would remove Hank before he ruined the party.

"That's uncalled for," Dr Mike said sharply.

"It's the liquor talkin'," put in Jake. Jake hadn't been invited either, but had turned up with Loren as his 'and guest'.

"It ain't only liquor," Myra said softly. She had caught a glimpse of Hank's eyes and seen the widely dilated pupils. He was clearly as high as a kite. That damned powder he insisted on shoving up his nose made him more unpredictable than usual.

"You oughta know, Jake," Hank continued, starting forward again.

"Go home," Jake said. "You're makin' a fool of yourself, friend."

"You ain't no friend of mine, you're just a worthless drunk," said Hank.

"Look who's talkin'," muttered Loren. "We've had just about enough of you, Hank."

"You better leave." Jake went towards him and gripped his arm. "I'll drive ya back to the club, at least I ain't drunk too much to drive."

Hank shook him off angrily. "Not till I give the bride her weddin' present." He shoved Jake further away from him, then reached around his back, pulling his shirt up. A moment later his hand emerged again with a gun in it.

More people gasped and some screamed, most beginning to back away. Myra pulled her hand free of Horace's and took a few steps forward. The party was already spoiled but she was damned if she was going to let Hank hurt any of her friends.

"Myra!" cried Horace. Sully gripped his arm to stop him following her.

"Do ya really think I'd let ya go through with this? Marryin' _him_?" said Hank.

"Put the gun away, Hank," Myra said quietly. "What do ya think you're doin'? You'll go to jail."

Hank lifted the gun slowly and aimed it at her, pulling back the hammer. She stopped still.

"Are ya crazy?" cried Jake.

"Think about what you're doing, Hank!" gasped the Reverend.

"Somebody could get hurt," Loren added.

"Somebody already did," Hank said, taking another step forward, the barrel of the gun pointing right at Myra's forehead. "I ain't gonna let ya do this. I'll kill ya first."

Myra closed her eyes and stood there motionless. She was shaking from head to foot, but he had made threats before. It was mostly the chemicals talking. "What are ya waitin' for, Hank? Pull the trigger. You'll never have me then."

A number of people gasped again and muttered that Myra was insane. Others said Hank should be locked up. What happened next was so fast that no one realised exactly what was going on at first. Two figures appeared through the door behind Hank, guns in their hands. One crept up to the pillar and paused behind it, aiming his gun at Hank's head. The other sprang forward, cracked his pistol down hard on Hank's wrist, making him drop his own gun and catching it with his free hand as it fell. The man behind the pillar rushed out and the pair of them wrestled Hank's arms behind his back, handcuffed him and shoved him to the floor. He struggled furiously, kicking out and catching one of his captors in the shins. The second younger man raised his foot and brought it down none too gently on the back of Hank's neck to keep him down. Panting, Matthew Cooper looked around at the anxious crowd.

"Sorry we're late, folks," he said.

"Seems like you're right on time," Sully smiled.

"Nice work, fellas," Loren said.

Myra turned away and fell into Horace's arms as Matthew and his partner hauled Hank to his feet. They began hustling him out of the room, Matthew jabbing him in the back with his pistol a couple of times as he swore and spat and dragged his feet.

"Are you alright, Myra?" Horace asked shakily. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "I hope they lock that maniac up and throw away the key," he muttered.

"They probably will."

"Alright, folks, drama's over!" shouted out Sully suddenly. "Let's get the party goin', shall we?"

Tom immediately turned up the music and after a few more minutes of uncertainty, everyone began to enjoy themselves again, except for Myra who couldn't shift the sick feeling which had settled in her stomach when Hank aimed his gun at her.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

It was Monday morning before Myra heard what happened after Hank was arrested. Horace was at work and she was alone in the apartment cleaning and doing the laundry, when the telephone rang. She jumped and stared at the handset for a moment, wondering whether to pick it up or not. It would be someone wanting Horace. Eventually she snatched it up and pressed the 'answer' button.

"Yes; hello?"

"Myra? It's Jake."

'Oh no,' she thought. 'What does he want? It has to be about Hank.'

"Are you ok?" he asked when she didn't say anything.

"Yes, thank you."

"I just wanted to let ya know you don't have to worry about Hank turnin' up again causin' trouble. He's locked up."

"But they'll let him out, won't they?" Myra said.

"Nope. He ain't made bail. They think he's too much of a danger to ya. They ain't lettin' him out till he goes to court."

"When will that be?"

"Few weeks," said Jake.

"What d'ya think will happen?" Myra asked.

"I dunno, I ain't a lawyer or a cop. It's a first offence, but he was threatenin' your life; the gun was fully loaded. He's goin' to jail, that's a certainty. Don't know how long for. He had coke on him too, that ain't gonna help."

Myra relaxed slightly. At least Hank wouldn't be free to spoil her wedding day the way he had her engagement party.

"Thanks for lettin' me know," she said to Jake. "What are ya gonna do about the club?"

"Run it on my own till we see what happens. I might have to think about gettin' a manager in. Anyhow, I'll be off. Just wanted to let ya know he won't be comin' after you again."

"Thanks," Myra repeated. Jake said goodbye and hung up. Myra put the telephone back in its place and went back to dusting. She knew she should be relieved by what Jake had said, but despite everything she couldn't help feeling a little bit sorry for Hank.

The next few weeks flew by, with preparations for the wedding and Myra still spending a couple of mornings a week with Grace adding to her cooking skills. Horace gave her some money every week to buy food and other household items and this in its turn was completely new to her. Taking Grace's advice, she carefully planned meals for each week and went to Loren's store with a detailed shopping list each Friday to stock the cupboards.

Much to her delight, Horace seemed to enjoy everything she cooked and twice during the month leading up to the wedding he took her out to a restaurant for a meal to give her a night off. Not counting establishments like IHOP and Taco Bell and Grace's of course, Myra had never had a proper meal out and loved the experience of going to a nice restaurant with cloths on the tables and candles and gentle music and real silver cutlery. Horace bought her various other attractive outfits to wear for these outings too, although he usually accompanied her to ensure what she chose was 'suitable'. That was the only thing Myra resented, that because of her background Horace made it obvious he didn't think her capable of picking out elegant attire.

The morning of the wedding was cool and wet. Myra had been hoping for sunshine, but even the dark clouds didn't dampen her mood. She was really getting married! Maybe she and Horace would even have a child soon too. Horace had said he liked children and wanted to have a family and this had delighted her. Before she left the Gold Nugget, she had occasionally dreamed about having a husband and children and assumed it was something that would never happen to her. But now here she was, just hours away from being married and there was something else too. She was late. She hadn't noticed immediately what with the drama of the engagement party and then the excitement of planning the wedding afterwards and in any case, her periods were never regular, but by rough calculations she should at least have had one by around the third week of January. It was now Valentine's Day.

Myra decided not to mention it to Horace until after the wedding. She wanted to be completely sure first, maybe even do a test before she said anything to him. She smiled to herself and said a small silent prayer that she was pregnant.

Horace drove Myra over to Dr Mike's house later that morning where she and Colleen would get ready together. Then Sully was to drive them all to the registry office in a Jaguar borrowed from Robert E. Grace had decorated it with pink ribbons and Robert E delivered it, looking slightly embarrassed by its appearance.

"Ya need a lift?" Sully asked him as Michaela helped Myra and Colleen into the back of the car, tucking dresses and veils carefully in before closing the doors.

"No thanks, here comes my chauffeur," grinned Robert E, pointing up the street as Grace approached, driving her small red car. "Ya want us to take Brian?"

"Oh, would you?" Michaela said.

Thus Brian climbed into the back of their car while Michaela traveled in the front of the Jaguar with Sully. Horace was to be collected by his parents who had arrived the previous evening and were staying in an hotel until the day after the wedding when they would drive back to Denver where they lived. Myra had never met them before and was a little nervous about it. She knew Horace had told them a few white lies about her, indicating she had worked as a waitress previously.

Everyone gathered outside the registry office at one forty-five and Myra was finally introduced to the Bings. Mr Bing was as tall as Horace and identical in looks except for having grey hair. He was cheerful and enthusiastic, pumping Myra's hand up and down vigorously as if he intended to pull it off of her arm. Mrs Bing was much more reserved, taking Myra's hand gingerly in hers and kissing the air six inches to the left of her face. She beamed at the younger woman who was to marry her son, but her grey eyes were steely in her thin face. Myra immediately felt that Mrs Bing thought she was nowhere near good enough for Horace. Well, perhaps she would have been right a few weeks ago, but not now. Myra straightened her back and smiled sweetly. She had nothing to be ashamed of any more.

The Reverend Johnson conducted the short service and by two-fifteen, Horace and Myra were pronounced husband and wife. Horace bent to kiss her and then wrapped his arms around her tightly and swung her off her feet, earning delighted applause from the guests and a slight frown from Mrs Bing, luckily unnoticed by the young couple. Then it was off to the small hall hired for the reception, only a few blocks away from the registry office. Horace and Myra now travelled in the Jaguar together with Sully and Michaela while Colleen squeezed into the back of Grace's car with Brian.

There was nothing to spoil the wedding breakfast or the speeches or the partying and dancing afterwards. No uninvited guests arrived and there was no need for Matthew Cooper to interrupt his afternoon off and save the day. Champagne flowed, the amateur photographer snapped away and Horace and Myra danced until their feet ached, before Sully drove them back to their apartment for their first night as Mr and Mrs Bing.

Once inside, Myra had one more surprise to come. She sat down, pulling off her shoes and rubbing her aching feet while Horace yanked at his bow tie in an effort to unfasten it.

"I wanted us to stay in an hotel for our weddin' night," he said.

"Oh, it doesn't matter, Horace! I'm just so happy we're married," said Myra at once.

Horace sat down beside her and slid his arm around her. "An hotel would've been nice though," he said. "But I couldn't afford it after I paid for our honeymoon."

"Honeymoon!" gasped Myra. ""We're goin' away?"

"Just four days," Horace said slightly apologetically. "I'm takin' ya to New York, Myra. We're gonna go to the top of the Empire State Buildin' and see the Statue of Liberty and Wall Street and ride in a horse and carriage in Central Park."

"Oh, Horace!" cried Myra. "A real vacation!"

He nodded. "We're goin' tomorrow mornin' on the train. I wanted us to go by plane, but I guess we can do that another time. I booked a boardin' house for us to stay in. It ain't much, but it means I can afford for us to do all the other stuff."

"I don't care if we stay in a tent, Horace, I'm just so excited we're goin' to New York!" Myra exclaimed. "I always wanted to go to New York."

"Well, this time tomorrow we're gonna be there," Horace said, hugging her tighter. "I bought a camera too, so we can take lots of photos of it all."

"I love ya so much," sighed Myra. "I'm gonna be the best wife to you than anybody ever had."

"I know you are, Myra." He kissed the top of her head, then stood up and pulled her to her feet. "Come along, Mrs Bing, let's get to bed."


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

The trip to New York was everything Myra could have dreamed of. The only place she had ever travelled was from Denver to Colorado Springs in a beat up old truck with Hank, so riding all the way to New York on the train was a huge adventure.

The boarding house on West 87th in Manhattan was basic but clean. The elevator didn't work and they had to climb to the fourth floor, dragging their luggage, but there was a great view from the window and they only intended to be in the room at night anyway. They both wanted to cram as much into the few days as possible.

The following morning Horace bought day passes for the subway and they visited the Empire State Building first, riding to the top and spending a couple of hours gazing from each side, taking photos and marvelling at the sights below. They ate lunch in a Japanese café in the next block and then took a boat trip to Liberty Island to see the statue and read about its history.

The next day they took a ride in a horse and carriage around Central Park and wandered around China Town and Little Italy, eating lunch in an Italian Restaurant on the sidewalk in the late winter sunshine. The day after that they took a bus ride to Jersey Gardens shopping mall and added a few things to Myra's growing new wardrobe and the final day was spent visiting Coney Island. It was too early for the fairground rides to be open, the season not due to start until April, but Horace and Myra walked on the damp sands, wrapped up warmly against the sea wind and ate corn dogs and waffles purchased from a snack stand. Despite the cold, the lack of activities and the rather tumbledown appearance of the resort, Myra loved seeing the sea.

All too soon the trip was over and it was time to take the train back to Colorado Springs. Myra had enjoyed every minute of it, but unfortunately the journey home was a nightmare for her. The train had only just pulled out of the station when she began to feel nauseous and she was forced to excuse herself and spend half an hour in one of the cramped on-board toilet cubicles. When she returned to her seat, her face was pale and her skin damp.

"Myra, are you alright?" Horace asked worriedly.

"I'm sick," she groaned, closing her eyes.

"Did you eat somethin' that upset ya?" he asked. "I thought we ate the same food."

"It ain't the food." Myra opened her eyes and glanced around her. No one else was sitting anywhere near them in the carriage. "I think I'm pregnant," she said in a loud whisper.

"Are ya sure?" Horace's face lit up. "A baby?"

"I ain't had a test," she said. "But I'm really late and now with getting' sick an' all, I think it must be that. I was gonna wait till we get home and then see Dr Mike."

"Well, that's wonderful!" Horace exclaimed. "Are ya pleased?"

Myra smiled wanly. "I can't wait to have a baby with ya, Horace. I just wish I didn't feel so lousy right now. Excuse me." She got up again quickly and headed back to the toilet.

Luckily the sickness wore off after a couple of hours and they spent the remainder of the journey talking excitedly about the prospect of a baby. Myra intended to call Dr Mike first thing the next morning to arrange to do a test to confirm it, although she was already fairly certain it would be positive.

When at last the train pulled into the station in Colorado Springs, Horace carried the bags out of the carriage himself and loaded them onto a trolley, not letting Myra carry more than her purse, then pushed the trolley to the line of cabs and secured one to take them back to the apartment. Once there, Horace took the luggage up in the elevator and dumped it all in the hallway.

"You put your feet up," he said to Myra. "I'll just run over to the store for a few things."

He hurried out again and down the street to the small supermarket on the corner. He returned fifteen minutes later with a bag of groceries and a newspaper. Putting the groceries on the kitchen table, he opened the paper. Myra began to put away bread, milk, eggs and fruit.

"Hey, listen to this!" Horace exclaimed suddenly, staring avidly at an article in the newspaper. "_Local Nightclub Owner Jailed. Hank Lawson, thirty-four..."_

Myra stiffened, her back to Horace as she put items into the refrigerator.

"..._threatening behaviour with a deadly weapon and possession of a controlled substance..."_ Horace was reading.

'It must be over,' Myra thought. 'If it's in the paper, he must have been sentenced.'

"..._two and a half years in Colorado Department of Corrections in Denver..."_ continued Horace. He sounded almost gleeful. Myra's stomach lurched.

"_...thousand dollar fine_," Horace went on. "Apparently he didn't have enough cocaine on him to be charged with intent to supply, otherwise it'd have been longer in jail. There wasn't even a trial, it sounds like it was just a formality. This is great news, ain't it, Myra? Now we can stop worryin' about him showin' up again."

"I suppose so," said Myra. She felt sick and suddenly cold. Hank had made her life a misery for a long time, but she wouldn't have wished prison on him. He didn't like small spaces and had often taken the stairs up to the apartment rather than the elevator. In jail, he'd be like a wild animal in a cage and he had already been in there for over a month.

"I thought you'd be pleased," Horace said as Myra closed the refrigerator and turned around.

"I am," she said.

"Ya don't sound it. After all that man did to ya, I thought you'd be over the moon."

"I'm relieved, of course I am. Ya know, Horace, I'm real tired after the journey, I think I'm gonna lie down for a while."

Horace put the paper down. "Alright, honey, you rest up and I'll make ya some tea later." He bent to kiss her on the forehead and then went back to the newspaper.

The following morning Horace left for work early, worried that he would have some catching up to do after his brief absence. Myra was sick again as soon as she got up and called Dr Mike between visits to the bathroom.

"How are you, Myra? Did you enjoy the trip to New York?" Dr Mike asked at once.

"It was wonderful," Myra said with a sigh.

"Are you alright? You don't sound so good."

"I'm sick as a dog, Dr Mike," admitted Myra.

"Oh, dear, I hope you didn't go eating that awful food they sell from stands in the street," the doctor said.

Myra managed a small laugh. "Actually we did, but that ain't why I'm sick. I think I could be pregnant. I'm pretty sure I am. I'm late as well as bein' sick the last couple of days."

"How late?" asked Dr Mike.

"About three weeks or more. They're never regular anyhow, but I've never gone this long without one."

"It certainly sounds like you could be pregnant. Would you like to come down to the surgery for a test, Myra?"

"Yes, please, but can we leave it till the afternoon when I feel better?"

"Of course." Dr Mike booked an appointment for Myra at two o'clock.

The surgery was empty when Myra arrived there later at ten minutes to two and she was called into the examination room straight away. The test and examination soon revealed that she was indeed pregnant.

"Seven or eight weeks, I'd say," said Dr Mike.

"It must have happened the first week I was with Horace," beamed Myra. "He'll be so excited!"

"I'll get you an appointment at the hospital for a scan in a couple of weeks," Dr Mike said. "They'll be able to give you a more accurate date and make sure the baby is healthy."

"Oh, I can't wait!" Myra exclaimed. "Just a few months ago gettin' married and havin' a baby was only a dream; somethin' that happens to everyone else, but not to me."

"I'm so happy for you." Dr Mike reached over and squeezed her hand. "I'd love to chat longer, but I'm afraid I've another patient due in. You and Horace must come over for dinner soon though, then we can catch up properly."

Promising to do just that, Myra left the surgery and made her way home, unable to wipe the smile off her face as she waited for Horace to come home to tell him the news.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

A month later and Myra was still suffering badly with morning sickness. Dr Mike had told her that it should subside by her third month so she hoped that it would let up any day now. At the moment she was tied to the apartment at least until lunchtime, for fear of being sick outdoors.

Horace had accompanied Myra to her hospital appointment for her ten week scan just over a week earlier and it had been confirmed that the baby was healthy and growing well. They were told the baby had been conceived on January first or second so it must have happened that first morning right after Myra moved in with Horace. The baby was due on October seventh. Myra begged Horace not to tell everyone until the third month was passed, just to make sure everything was alright and he kept his mouth shut with difficulty, but talked none stop about their approaching parenthood while at home.

Myra was overjoyed at the prospect of becoming a mother and enjoying every minute of married life and looking after Horace, however, it was only a matter of time before something happened to briefly spoil the fairytale.

Myra was in the bathroom when the mail arrived on Saturday. She still couldn't keep a thing down and had given up trying to eat breakfast until the sickness settled. She could usually manage some dry toast by the middle of the morning. Slowly it subsided and she washed her hands and face and looked at herself in the mirror. Pregnant women were supposed to 'glow', weren't they? Myra thought she looked like the walking dead.

"Myra? You alright?" Horace called.

"Yes, I'm just comin'." She opened the door.

"Ya got somethin' in the mail," Horace said at once.

"I ain't expectin' nothin'." She walked past him into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Horace followed and dropped the envelope onto the counter in front of her. The stamp on it said it had come from Colorado Department of Corrections in Denver.

"What does he want?" Horace demanded grimly.

"I dunno, do I?" sighed Myra. "I didn't expect to hear from him."

"Didn't ya?"

She sipped the water and glared at him.

"Ya gonna open it, then?"

Myra put the glass down and ripped open the envelope. It was a visiting order for the following Tuesday. Her stomach flipped over and she put a hand over her mouth, hoping she wasn't going to vomit again.

"Well, ya know what you can do with that!" Horace said angrily, snatching the card out of her hand. He tore it in half and then in half again before tossing it into the garbage can. "Even now he's locked up, ya still ain't free of him!"

"Sorry, Horace." Myra darted past him to the bathroom again as another wave of nausea overtook her. Was Hank ever going to let her forget about him?

The second visiting order turned up three weeks later. Horace had already gone to work when the mail arrived, much to Myra's relief. She sifted through the half dozen envelopes, all of which were addressed to Horace except for the one at the bottom of the pile which was from the prison. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, hoping that she would open them again and find that the stiff white envelope was merely a bill or a circular. Another look revealed that it was still a visiting order from Hank.

"Horace will go mad," she muttered to herself, glancing over her shoulder even though she knew he was over a mile away in his office. Without opening the envelope, she ripped it and its contents into small pieces and went to flush them down the toilet, her hands shaking. Damn Hank, what did he want to see her for anyhow? She doubted it would be to apologise.

"Forget about him," she said aloud. "He's miles away, he can't hurt ya."

Another month passed and Myra's morning sickness finally subsided. She was over four months pregnant now and showing quite a bit. A second scan had showed the baby to be healthy and progressing well and the midwife had printed out a photograph for her and Horace to take home. Horace was so excited he spent a good part of Saturday on the telephone to family and friends, talking about it. Myra smiled to herself as she listened to his side of the conversations and began to feel that at last she could relax and enjoy her marriage and pregnancy.

On Monday morning another visiting order arrived.

"Damn you, Hank, leave me alone!" she cried, throwing the envelope carelessly into the trash. She sat down at the kitchen table with a sigh, wondering if she would ever be allowed to forget him. Every time she began to put him out of her mind, he would pop back up again like a bad penny.

She sat there for a long time staring at the table top, chewing her finger nails and thinking about the wretched visiting order in the garbage can in the corner of the room. Eventually she got up and retrieved it, ripping open the envelope. The visiting time was for one o'clock on Thursday. Perhaps the only way she could put all of this behind her was to go and see him and tell him to stop bothering her. Maybe then he would leave her alone once and for all.

Myra hid the visiting order in the inside pocket of one of her jackets and went out later that day to the bus station and the railway station to find out how she could get to Denver and back before Horace returned from work at six. The bus would be slow, but there was a train leaving Colorado Springs at eleven-fifteen which reached Denver just after twelve. The railway station there was about ten miles from the prison so she could get a cab at the other end. Another train left the city at three and arrived home at four-thirty. Feeling sick with nerves and guilt about doing this behind Horace's back, Myra bought a return ticket for Thursday and went back to the apartment, wondering how she was going to behave normally for the next three days until it was all over.

Somehow Myra managed not to let Horace see how nervous and worried she was during the next few days and she was fortunate in that with Easter approaching, Horace was busier than usual and when he wasn't working extra hours, he was thinking about work so if she seemed distracted he didn't even notice. At last Thursday arrived and Myra busied herself in the kitchen, making breakfast and packing up lunch for Horace who gobbled one, grabbed the other and dropping a brisk kiss on Myra's cheek, hurried out of the door at eight-fifteen.

At ten Myra began to get ready to go. She took out a small black purse and put into it the visiting order, the train ticket and some money, then tried to decide what to wear. She supposed it didn't matter what she wore and took out a pair of jeans, but then changed her mind. They were too tight and made her pregnancy obvious; it would be more sensible to cover it up and look nice; let him see she was better off without him. She put on a smart pair of navy trousers and a simple white shirt hanging loose, pinning her hair up neatly with a tortoiseshell crocodile clip. She added a neat black jacket and high heeled boots, a hint of peach lipstick and a dab of powder.

By the time she was ready it was ten-thirty and she grabbed her purse, locked the apartment and began to walk to the railway station. She dawdled and made the walk last fifteen minutes, then checked the departure board for the train to Denver. It was on time and due in at Platform 4 in twenty minutes. She made her way to the platform and sat on a bench, fidgeting nervously and trying not to bite her nails. Her stomach was doing somersaults and her heart thumped unevenly. There were still two hours to go until visiting time at the prison and she began to have second thoughts about going. She was more nervous about seeing Hank again than she could remember being about anything else in the past. She began to go over and over in her head what she intended to say to him. 'I'm married to Horace now; I don't wanna hear from you again.' How difficult could that be?

The train pulled slowly into the station and Myra leapt to her feet, dropping her purse on the ground and having to stoop and retrieve it quickly. 'Just forget about it and go home,' she thought to herself and began to walk along the platform. Dozens of people were now disembarking from the train and a number of others clustered together, waiting for the way to be clear for them to board. Myra hovered uncertainly watching them, then finally turned and followed a couple of students as they climbed the steps into one of the train carriages. She found a seat and sat down, removed the ticket from her purse ready for the inspector and did her best to relax.

People shuffled up and down, loading luggage in the overhead racks, finding seats, chattering. Myra gazed out of the window at the activity on the platform and thought of Horace sitting in his office at Fedex, oblivious that his wife was on her way to visit the man who had caused the pair of them so much misery.

The train pulled out of the station at exactly eleven-fifteen and after Myra's ticket was checked she put it away and watched the scenery flying past as she hurtled towards Denver. The journey seemed interminable and the closer she got to the city, the more her stomach churned and the more she wished herself back home. As the train finally pulled into the station she reasoned that in less than ninety minutes it would all be over.

Perhaps a dozen cabs waited outside the station and Myra joined the line of people wanting them. She took the fifth car and slid into the back seat.

"Where ya goin', Miss?" the driver asked.

"Colorado Department of Corrections, please," she said.

She saw his eyebrows rise slightly in the rearview mirror before he put the car into gear and headed out of the station.

'Please don't talk to me,' she thought to herself.

"Visitin'?" asked the driver.

"Yes," Myra said shortly.

"Family? Friend?"

"Neither."

"Secret rendezvous?" He grinned wickedly in the mirror.

"In a prison?"

"We get all sorts."

"Please, just drive," Myra said with a sigh, wishing for the hundredth time that she hadn't come.

"Sure thing." He stopped talking and accelerated down the sliproad onto a highway. Two exits further on they turned off the freeway and headed down a wide undeveloped road. Myra could see metal fencing in the distance and buildings behind it and she licked her dry lips.

The car stopped at the gate in the fence and Myra was required to show her visiting order to a guard. The taxi was required to turn back, leaving her to walk the last couple of hundred yards. She paid the driver and asked if he would wait for her. He nodded, pulled the car to the side of the road, switched off the engine and took out a newspaper and a pack of cigarettes. Myra walked through the gate and headed for the building. A number of people were waiting outside and she joined them, clutching her purse tight in both hands and avoiding looking at them.

"Ya got the time?" a woman asked no one in particular.

"Twelve-forty," another voice replied.

The next fifteen minutes crawled by and at last the large metal door in the building swung open and two prison guards appeared. The other people appeared to be regular visitors and all immediately trooped through the door and down a long corridor lit with fluorescent strip lights. Myra followed anxiously. The visitors reached a long counter and waited in line while two other staff behind it checked their bags and pockets to make sure they weren't bringing anything in that wasn't permitted. Several people had brought a variety of gifts for those they were visiting. Myra handed over her visiting order and opened her purse, then a moment later she was waved on towards another corridor. She followed the other visitors to a closed door with a guard standing by it. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. Myra waited for the other visitors to walk through into the room beyond, still in two minds about turning around and leaving.

"You goin' in or not?" the guard prompted her.

"Uh…yes."

She decided to just go in and get it over with and taking a deep breath, she walked briskly into the room. A number of small tables were set out with chairs surrounding each. She went to a vacant one and sat down, gripping the strap of her purse tight and and pressing her hands between her knees to stop them trembling. She glanced around nervously at the other people and then looked up as the heavy metal door at the far end of the room opened and a dozen or so men came in. Each one quickly found the friends or family members who had come to see them and sat down with them.

Hank came in last. He was wearing jog pants and a grey t-shirt, his hair tangled. Myra's eyes quickly took in the bruises on his face and the torn knuckles from fighting. He looked depressed and lethargic as he walked towards her and sat down.

"Myra," he said gruffly. "Didn't expect to see ya."

She met his eyes, noticing the dark smudges beneath them and the constricted pupils.

"You look terrible." It was out of her mouth before she thought about what she was going to say.

"Thanks." He stared back at her. "You look good." His gaze drifted away again.

"Hank?"

He didn't answer or even look back at her. Myra resisted the urge to reach across the table and shake him.

"Hank!"

His eyes slid back to her face and remained fixed there for a few seconds, but he didn't speak. He leaned back in the cheap plastic seat, running a hand through his hair, then glanced to one side and then the other as if he would rather look at anything other than Myra.

"You've been fightin'," she stated.

Hank snorted. "Ain't exactly news, is it? Ya gotta stand up for yourself in here."

Myra was silent for a moment. She hadn't thought it would be so hard to speak to him, but then she hadn't expected him to look so rough either.

"You need to get yourself together, Hank, otherwise you'll end up dyin' in here," she said quietly.

"Don't pretend ya care," he grunted.

"I don't."

"So why ya here?"

"Ya sent me a visitin' order, remember? Three actually." Myra pulled herself together and said what she had intended to say when she made up her mind to visit. "I just came to tell ya to leave me alone. Horace and I are married now and we're gonna have a baby. I don't wanna hear from you again."

"You're pregnant?" Hank's face was already pale, but whatever colour had been in it now drained away.

"Yeah."

"Ain't nothin' more to say then, is there?"

"I guess not." Myra stood up and pushed her chair back under the table. Hank didn't move or look at her and she turned away towards the door. She glanced back once just before she reached it. Hank was still sitting at the table, his head in his hands. She hesitated, filled with guilt and sadness, despite everything he had done.

"You goin'?" the guard at the door asked her. "Ya got another ten minutes."

"Yes, I'm goin'."

He opened the door for her and she stepped through and walked away without looking back again.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Myra half expected Hank to try contacting her again and checked the mail every day with trepidation for several weeks, praying fervently that nothing would turn up on a Saturday when Horace nearly always grabbed any letters that arrived, but there were no more visiting orders or anything else from the prison. Eventually Myra was able to put Hank out of her mind and enjoy her pregnancy, although she was rapidly becoming heavier and more uncomfortable and longing for the birth.

In those first few months Myra was quite content spending most of her time at the apartment, cleaning and cooking, reading books and magazines on pregnancy and childbirth and visiting Grace or Dr Mike or Emily. However, there was part of her that still longed for something else. Grace had the diner, Dr Mike her surgery and Emily sewed and worked part time in a store; all of them had things to occupy their minds and their time and they all earned their own money.

What Myra wanted was a job, except she didn't know how to do anything useful. Idly flicking through the mail one morning, all of which was for Horace, she found a flyer advertising courses at the local college which put the idea into her head that she could learn something of interest and use it to find a job afterwards. She tucked the flyer into her purse, deciding to hold onto it until after the baby was born and then speak to Horace about taking a course. Since she had no money of her own he would have to pay for it and she was reluctant to ask for him to give her more than he already did, but she longed to do something other than be a housewife.

Myra was now seven months pregnant and counting off the days until her baby came. She and Horace had elected not to know the sex of the baby, preferring to have a surprise although both of them hoped for a daughter. That Friday morning Myra looked at herself in the long mirror in the bedroom and wished she had something more attractive to wear than leggings and huge loose shirts. Still, it would only be a few more weeks and she would be able to get into all her other clothes again. She brushed her hair and smiled back at her reflection. She really did appear to be glowing now and she realised it was probably the healthiest she had ever looked.

It was over a week since she had been anywhere except for Loren's store and she decided to take herself to Grace's for lunch. Horace would be giving her the weekly housekeeping money that evening and she still had fifteen dollars left from the last week. She shoved her feet into her comfortable flat shoes, grabbed her purse and set off.

Grace was delighted to see her and sat down to chat for five minutes while Myra decided what she wanted to eat. She chose meatloaf and a slice of apple pie.

"Put your money away," Grace scolded when Myra reached into her purse. "It's on the house." She got up from the table. "I need to get back to it, I'll try and grab another five minutes with you before ya go."

"Thanks, Grace." Myra sat back in the chair, trying to get comfortable while she waited for her meal to arrive. Grace brought the food and a glass of juice herself and then left Myra to eat it. She was just finishing the apple pie when she was interrupted.

"Mind if I join ya?"

Myra looked up suddenly, recognising the voice.

"Sure, Jake," she said reluctantly. Jake had never done anything to upset her; in fact mostly he'd been pretty nice, but she didn't want to be reminded of Hank if she could avoid it. She just knew that Jake would want to talk about him.

Jake sat down at the table. "You're lookin' good," he said. "How long till ya...you know...have the kid?"

"About another two months," she said.

"Coffee?" one of the waitresses asked, appearing at the table with a menu for Jake..

"Thanks," said Jake. "And I'll get a burger and fries, please."

The waitress poured coffee and then disappeared.

"How's Horace?" asked Jake then.

"Fine. Jake, what do ya wanna talk about?" Myra said. "You sure ain't interested in what Horace is doin'."

"Yeah." Jake grinned. "I saw Hank the other day."

Myra's pulse quickened. "He's out?" she asked nervously.

"No, I mean in jail. I went to see him."

"Oh. Of course." Myra relaxed and took a sip of her juice. She didn't prompt Jake to continue; he was doubtless going to do that anyway.

"He said you went to see him too a while back."

"Just to tell him to leave me alone," Myra said. "I didn't tell anyone I went."

"Not even Horace?" smiled Jake.

"No. You ain't gonna say nothin', are ya?"

"'Course not. I never see Horace, nor anyone else hardly."

"He was a mess," Myra put in.

"Horace?"

"Hank," Myra said with a sigh. Jake could be dense sometimes.

"Yeah, well he ain't now. He got it together."

"Really?" Despite not wanting to care, Myra found herself relieved.

"Yeah. He said if I see ya, to say sorry. He ain't gonna bother you again." Jake looked up as his burger arrived. "Thanks."

"Oh, well, that's good," said Myra. She didn't know what else to say and simply watched as Jake shoved a handful of fries into his mouth and chewed rapidly. He didn't speak again for a couple of minutes and she tried to think of something else to say, not wanting to excuse herself right off.

"How's the club doin'?" she asked.

"Pretty good. I hired a bar manager to help out until Hank's back."

"How's Emma?"

"Gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"After Hank got arrested the cops kept sniffin' around and I thought it best to get rid of any trace of anythin' illegal. I didn't wanna join him," Jake said with a grin. "Emma started up her own business. She had a good amount saved, I gave her the rest she needed to get goin' outta the club takin's."

"That was kind of ya," Myra said. "She told me she was plannin' it."

"Seems to be doin' well at it," Jake said. "She took a room with Dorothy Jennings. Dorothy was askin' for a lodger. You should go see her."

"Yeah, maybe I will." The only thing Myra really missed about being at the club was Emma. They had been pretty good friends for the few months they both worked there.

Myra stayed a few more minutes while Jake finished his meal and then excused herself, had another quick word with Grace and headed for home, stopping in at Loren's store on the way to pick up a couple of items for dinner.

On Monday Myra went to see Emma, looking forward to catching up with the other girl. Dorothy was out working, but she found Emma busy stitching a white satin basque for someone's wedding.

"Myra! You look amazin'!" Emma exclaimed, giving her a hug. "I'm so glad to see ya." She led Myra inside and ushered her to a comfortable armchair. "How long before the baby's due?"

"Less than two months now," Myra said. "I can't wait, I feel like a whale."

"How'd ya know where I was?" asked Emma.

"I saw Jake on Friday, he said you were here. How's your business doin'?"

"Better than I expected after just a few months," said Emma. "I got orders to keep me goin' for the next three weeks and more keep on rollin' in."

"I'm real pleased for ya," Myra said.

"I was glad to get away from the club," said Emma.

"I'm sorry I just upped and left without sayin' nothin'," Myra said. "I thought I mightn't go through with it if I planned too much."

"It's ok. I know ya weren't happy. Your eyes always looked like there was no life in 'em," Emma said.

"Hank didn't take it out on you, did he?" Myra asked.

"He pretty much ignored me. He went nuts right after ya left, smashed the place up. After that he was so high the whole time no one got two words out of him. He took so much coke before your party it's a wonder he didn't die before he got there. I called the cops when I realised where he was headin'."

"Really? It was you? Thanks," Myra smiled. "I thought it was just 'cause we invited Matthew."

"I saw Dr Mike the next day, she said he was gonna come to the party later on, but him and his partner got sent over early. I guess that was when I called. I was scared outta my wits after, thinkin' Hank'd somehow find out it was me, but he never came back here again," Emma went on. "Before all that, Jake ran the club on his own, Hank wasn't capable of nothin'. I carried on workin', just for my regulars, then after Hank got locked up Jake gave me some cash to help start my sewin' business."

"Did ya go and see Hank?" Myra asked.

"In prison? Why would I wanna do that? He was out of his mind, I was glad to see the back of him. Besides, he didn't send a visitin' order, I guess he didn't want no one seein' him in there."

"He sent me three," Myra sighed.

"Yeah, well, I suppose that figures," Emma said with a sudden smile. "Obviously I didn't know him that well, but it seemed to me like he was keen on you. I know he had a funny way of showin' it, but still." She shrugged. "Probably just one of those guys who don't know how to show their feelin's. Did he get the message eventually? I mean, I don't suppose ya visited."

"I went once, when I got the third visitin' order," Myra admitted.

"I bet Horace wasn't too pleased," Emma said, looking surprised.

"I didn't tell him. I just went to tell Hank to leave me alone. He has done ever since."

"How was he?" asked Emma.

"Sick lookin'. I don't know what he was on, but it wasn't coke. He was covered in bruises from fightin' too." Myra shook herself. "I don't wanna talk about him, Emma, it's taken long enough to get him out of mine and Horace's lives."

"Sorry. So tell me about the baby. Do ya know if you're gonna have a boy or a girl?" She changed the subject rapidly and Myra relaxed again, staying for a couple of hours chatting and promising to keep in touch with Emma in the future.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Myra went into labour on October seventh as expected. It was late one evening and she and Horace were just getting ready for bed when her waters broke. Horace quickly helped Myra get her coat and shoes on, grabbed her overnight bag which had been waiting in the hallway for the past week and then drove her to the hospital in the old Beetle. After eight hours of labour, Myra gave birth to a healthy baby girl, weighing in at six and a half pounds and with a tuft of blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

Horace immediately called his boss and was given the week off, so he spent the rest of the morning with Myra and the new baby. They spent most of the time discussing names and eventually decided on Samantha Louise. Myra suggested Samantha, it being a name she had always liked and Horace wanted Louise, his mother's name.

Eventually the hospital staff insisted that Horace go home and leave Myra and the baby to rest. He could return in the evening for another visit. Much as Myra didn't want him to leave, she found that she was exhausted and drifted into sleep almost as soon as a nurse took Samantha from her and placed her in the cot beside her bed.

When Myra woke some time later, Dr Mike and Colleen had just arrived to see her, having received a phone call from an excited Horace as soon as he'd got home. It turned out he'd called just about everyone they knew as throughout the evening Myra also received visits from Grace and Robert E, Dorothy Jennings and Loren Bray, Emily and her eldest daughter and of course Horace himself. All of them were delighted to see Samantha and thought she was beautiful. Most of them brought gifts too; flowers for Myra, baby toys and so on. Emily had stitched a little white baby gown and having heard from Horace that morning that the baby was a girl, she had spent the afternoon adding delicately embroidered pink flowers around the hem.

Myra was required to remain in hospital for only two days before she and Samantha were allowed home. Myra was delighted to get back to the apartment and settle the baby in and found that while she had been in the hospital, Horace had painted the second bedroom pink and added pretty pink and white borders. He had put together the cot they had bought together and bought bedding suitable for a baby girl, plus a big cuddly rabbit with long floppy ears and googly eyes.

Those first few days Horace fussed around Myra and Samantha as if they were bone china, waiting on Myra hand and foot, shopping at Loren's and cooking the meals himself. Myra protested that she was fine and quite capable of housework, but Horace insisted she put her feet up and relax while he vacuumed, tidied, did the laundry and prepared meals. However, the following week he had to return to work again and Myra returned to her usual tasks of housework and cooking and now caring for Samantha as well.

It took a while for Myra to get into a proper routine again. Her whole world now revolved around Samantha and she quickly became exhausted, getting up several times each night to tend to the baby when she cried, wanting Horace to remain undisturbed as he was the one working. However, eventually Samantha began to sleep for longer at a time and consequently Myra began to feel better and think about her situation.

She loved being married to Horace and being Samantha's mother, but still she longed for something more. She remembered the flyer in her purse advertising courses at the college and decided to look into doing one. She yearned for something different to do, to occupy her time and exercise her brain and she read through the flyer several times and called the college for more information on some of their courses. When an envelope arrived for her a few days later, she decided to speak to Horace about it as soon as he returned from work that day. There was a course starting in a few weeks' time, right after Christmas two afternoons a week on computers and another on business studies. Myra thought if she could learn something like that, she might be able to find some kind of work she could do at home.

As soon as dinner was over that evening and the dishes cleaned and put away, Myra broached the subject to Horace.

"Why do ya wanna go to college, Myra?" he asked at once. "It's not as if you're gonna need it."

"I thought I could get a little job; somethin' part-time or even that I can do from home. Earn my own money."

"Ya don't need a job, Myra, I give you anythin' you need," said Horace.

"I don't like to ask ya for things that ain't essentials," she protested. "You work so hard. But sometimes I'd like to be able to buy things if I want them without askin' each time."

"I don't want ya workin', Myra, you're a mother now," Horace said firmly. "That's your job. I'll give ya what ya need." He switched on the television and turned his attention away from her, indicating the end of the conversation. Myra sighed heavily and put the college information away again. Maybe one day she could make use of it.

A few days later she received a surprise from Horace which cheered her slightly, although she still felt she would rather be earning her own money. He handed her a brand new Visa card with 'Mrs Myra Bing' printed across the bottom.

"A credit card?" she said in wonder.

"You said ya don't wanna have to keep askin' me for things, so now ya can just go and buy them," said Horace. "Just let me have the statements each month and I'll pay them for ya."

"Oh, Horace," Myra gasped. "Ya didn't have to do this."

"Yes, I did. I know you and Samantha need stuff, I don't want you to feel like ya have to account for every penny the whole time."

"Thank you, Horace," Myra beamed, reaching up to give him a kiss. He slid his arms around her and held her tight. They hadn't made love since the baby was born and Horace now released Myra again and led her into the bedroom.

Much to Myra's surprise, Horace used a condom for the first time since they had been together. She didn't say anything until afterwards, not wanting to spoil things for him. It was quite easy for Horace to lose his mood and then he would sulk and mooch about for days afterwards. Some time later when they lay in each other's arms, she mentioned it.

"You never used a rubber before, Horace."

"Just thought we oughta be careful now we've got Samantha. Might be a good idea for ya to go see Dr Mike and get some pills."

"You want me to go on the pill?" Myra said.

"We just had a baby, Myra, ya don't wanna be gettin' pregnant again."

"No, not yet I suppose," she said, her heart sinking. "It'd be nice for Sam to have a little brother or sister eventually though."

"I think one child's enough," said Horace. "We have our little family now – you, me and Sam. We don't need more children."

"Horace, we ain't even talked about this," protested Myra. "You mightn't want another baby right now, but I do, at least in a year or two."

"Well, I don't," he said firmly. "With just one, she'll get all she wants; a good education, nice clothes and toys. With another child it'd be a struggle to pay for everything and we'd have no time of our own."

"It wouldn't be a struggle if I worked," Myra pointed out.

"How ya gonna work, Myra? You already got Sam to care for. Ya certainly couldn't if you're pregnant and with two children you'd just throw your wages away on childcare when ya should be lookin' after them yourself. What's the point in that?"

Myra turned away from him and sat up, tears pricking her eyes. She had thought things were going to be different when she married Horace, but she still didn't have her own life. She did what he wanted, which was for her to be a housewife and mother and nothing else. After escaping the Gold Nugget she thought she would get to make her own choices, or at least make decisions with Horace, but it was exactly the same. Horace just had a different way of going about getting what he wanted than Hank did, but the end result was the same. She did as she was told and now she didn't even get a day off.

She thought back to the previous year, remembering her hatred of her job; the different men, mostly unsavoury types, the drugs, the constant worry that she might get hurt and having to give in to Hank too whenever he felt like it. Every moment she had to herself was precious and she had looked forward to each day off to spend with Horace as if it might be the last. She had longed to be free, to make her own choices, to be with Horace. What did they say about the grass always being greener? She had got what she wished for, but all she had done was swap one man's rules for another. She did love Horace, but she just wanted a little something for herself.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Myra pulled herself together again the following day, deciding to make the best of things and take herself and Samantha out for the day. Her first stop, reluctantly, was Dr Mike's surgery. She had telephoned early and managed to get an appointment at nine-thirty. Dr Mike was delighted to see her and keen to give Samantha a cuddle.

"She's grown so much! What a little beauty!" Dr Mike cooed. "Look at those big blue eyes."

"She's a darlin'," Myra smiled. "She already sleeps four or five hours at a time too."

"You're both well though?" asked Dr Mike.

"Absolutely, I just made the appointment to get some pills. Contraceptive ones."

"Ohh! Of course. I don't suppose you'll want to become pregnant again right away."

"No," Myra said wistfully. "Actually Horace thinks one child is enough, but we'll see. I ain't ready for another anyhow."

"Well, first I'll need to check your blood pressure," said Dr Mike, passing the baby back to her. "You don't smoke, do you, Myra? Or drink much?"

"No, neither one," said Myra. "I ain't had a drink since I left the Gold Nugget except for champagne after the weddin'."

"You've come such a long way in only a few months," Dr Mike said with a smile as she checked Myra's blood pressure.

"Not so very far," murmured Myra.

"You are happy with Horace?"

"Oh, yes! He's real sweet to me. Wants me and Sam to have anythin' we need," said Myra at once. For a moment she had been tempted to confide in Dr Mike about her feelings, but decided against it. In fact she didn't really think there was anyone she could tell. They would all think she was ungrateful and never satisfied. There were plenty of people in Colorado Springs who would give their right arm for a husband who would care for them like Horace did Myra.

"I'm glad," said Dr Mike. She sat down at her desk and printed out a prescription for a six-month supply of contraceptive pills and explained to Myra she must take them for twenty-one days at a time, then have seven days off and that she must allow a full twenty-eight day cycle before relying on them. She explained the possible side effects and then walked out to the door with Myra.

Myra called in at the nearby drugstore next to collect the pills and then wandered around the town, window-shopping and daydreaming. When she spotted a baby mobile hanging in one window with cute little bluebirds dangling from it, she couldn't resist going into the store for a closer look. She just knew Samantha would love it to hang over her cradle. The mobile was twenty-nine dollars and for a moment she hesitated, thinking that she had better ask Horace first, but then she remembered the Visa card. No time like the present to try it out.

She took a box from a nearby shelf containing the same mobile as that on display and handed the card over to the cashier, feeling strangely as if she were committing some sort of crime. The cashier printed out a paper slip and passed it to Myra with a pen.

"Sign at the bottom, please, Mrs Bing," she said.

Myra signed her name and moments later walked out of the store with the mobile tucked into the carry tray beneath Samantha's buggy. For the first time in months she felt a tiny bit of freedom. However, that small pleasure was marred that evening when Horace questioned her about the visit to Dr Mike, wanting to know every detail about the use of the pills.

Over subsequent weeks, Horace grew obsessive about the pills and several times Myra caught him checking the packet in the bathroom cabinet to make sure she hadn't forgotten to take one and questioning her about when her 'monthly' started.

"I said I'd take them, didn't I?" she grumbled. "Don't ya trust me?"

"Sometimes you can be forgetful, Myra, we don't want any accidents now, do we?" responded Horace.

"Accidents?" Usually mild-tempered and not easily riled, Myra began to feel angry. "This was your decision, Horace, not mine, I just went along with it."

"It's best for all of us," said Horace. "We don't need another child."

"Yes, you said. I'm takin' the damned pills, ya don't have to keep checkin' up on me!"

"There's no need to swear, Myra. Like I said, you can be forgetful."

"For all you know, Horace, I might be takin' one out the packet every day and flushin' 'em down the toilet!" Myra snapped.

"You ain't doin' that, are ya?" Horace said, his face taking on a horrified expression. "I never thought you were dishonest, Myra."

"No, I ain't, but believe me, I'm sorely tempted! If you're that worried about it, why'd ya bother askin' me to take 'em in the first place? You could have stuck with the rubbers."

Horace sighed heavily. "Does it mean that much to you to have another baby?"

"No, Horace, it don't. I ain't even ready to think about it. What I'm upset about is that ya don't trust me and you ain't even given me a choice." Her temper subsided and tears stung her eyes. Horace immediately backed down.

"I'm so sorry, Myra," he said. "Really I am." He reached out and grasped her hands, squeezing them gently. "I do trust you, of course I do. I just get myself worryin' about things. Sometimes I think you ain't happy."

"I ain't unhappy, Horace, I just get bored," Myra told him. "I love takin' care of Sam and you, but there's gotta be more to life for me than just bein' a housewife. I wanna do somethin' useful."

"Like get a job? And dump your baby on a stranger while you're doin' it? We talked about that," Horace said.

"Yeah, we did, didn't we?" Myra pulled her hands free. "And you made your decision."

"I'm your husband, Myra, I know what's best. Ya didn't have any kinda life before."

"At least I got a day off once in a while," muttered Myra.

"What was that? Are ya sayin' you wish you were back at the club? With _Hank_?" Horace's eyes narrowed and he glared at her now.

"Of course I ain't sayin' that, Horace, I hated bein' there, ya know I did. But ya can't tell me what to do all the time. I gotta make my own decisions sometimes."

"When couples marry, they make decisions _together_," Horace emphasised.

"Yeah, they're meant to." Myra turned away and walked out of the room.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Things didn't improve for Myra over the next few months. She stopped thinking about working to please Horace and to keep the peace and for some time gave herself other things to look forward to, such as visiting Emma and going for lunch at Grace's Diner once a week for a change of scene. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

Then one day when she was at the diner, Grace put a new idea into her head. It had just been Grace's birthday and much to her delight and amazement Robert E had given her a new car. Her little old red Ford had done well, but lately had begun to fall to pieces and although Robert E had patched it up a number of times eventually there was nothing more he could do. He scrapped the car and gave Grace a two-year-old yellow Beetle for her birthday. Grace took Myra outside to show her, beaming with excitement.

"It ain't like your Horace's, it's the new Beetle," said Grace. "It came into the lot just a week ago. It was owned by a lady before, but she lost her job and decided she couldn't afford to keep it."

"It's beautiful!" Myra exclaimed, walking around the bright yellow car. "You're so lucky, Grace. I wish I could drive." Myra had never even sat behind the wheel of a car and didn't know the first thing about driving, but as she looked at the Beetle she imagined herself with her own car, Samantha strapped into a baby seat, driving along an open road with the windows down and the breeze blowing through her hair, free to do as she liked.

"Myra?" Grace's voice brought her back to reality.

"Sorry, Grace. I was just thinkin' I'd love to learn to drive."

"Why don't ya, then? Robert E has a couple of instructors he recommends when people want 'em."

"I'd like to; I'll have to ask Horace. He'd be payin' for it, after all," Myra said with a sigh. She couldn't see Horace agreeing to that, but one never knew. She decided to speak to him about it that evening.

"Why would ya wanna learn to drive, Myra?" he asked at once. "I'll take you anywhere ya wanna go."

"I thought it'd be fun for me to learn, and useful. I'd be able to take Sam out to places some days when you're workin'."

"I need the car to get to work," Horace reminded her.

"I could get my own."

"Myra, I ain't made of money!" Horace exclaimed. "I can't afford to run two cars and I sure can't afford to buy another one and pay for you to have drivin' lessons."

"I'm sure Robert E could find me a cheap car," Myra said.

"It ain't just the buyin' of it; there's insurance and repairs and gas….I'm sorry, Myra, you're gonna have to forget about it. If ya wanna go out somewhere, let me know and I'll take you on the weekends."

It was only what she expected. She could see Horace's point about the expense of another car; if he couldn't afford it then he couldn't. But he didn't want her to do anything for herself at all and the more time that passed, the more she felt like a prisoner. She decided to take Sam out for a day to cheer herself up and maybe buy herself something nice. It was a long time since she'd had anything new for herself.

The following morning, Myra was out walking into the centre of town with Samantha in her buggy less than an hour after Horace left for work. She decided to shop and then go to Grace's for lunch.

The first place she stopped was a shoe store. She loved shoes and had only had one new pair in the past year. She wandered around the store trying on different styles, walking up and down and pretending to herself that she could buy all of them. In the end she settled for a pair of stylish black high heels, not even looking at the price tag as she went to the cashier. She pulled out the Visa card to pay and waited for the slip to sign. Her stomach turned over. A hundred and forty-nine dollars! She gripped the pen tighter. She couldn't say anything, they'd think she was a fool or call security and make a big fuss about it. She signed the slip and a moment later was walking out of the store with the most expensive pair of shoes she'd ever owned, trying not to think about what Horace would say when the statement came.

Thinking it best not to look around any more stores Myra headed for the park, finding it deserted. She thought she would just stroll around for a while with Samantha in her buggy, which she did for ten minutes until she couldn't resist stopping to try on the new shoes again. She dumped the box into a garbage bin, put her old shoes in the plastic bag and slid her feet into the new high heels. She was wearing a knee-length black skirt and a blouse so the shoes didn't look out of place and they felt so comfortable. She hadn't worn high heels since she left the Gold Nugget, only little ones. The shoes Hank made her wear had been so high and uncomfortable she had always worried she would break her ankle and once she was pregnant, she had gotten used to flat shoes and sneakers.

Myra continued walking around the park in the new shoes, smiling with every step and taking great care not to scuff them on the uneven walkways. So what if they cost a hundred and forty-nine dollars? They were worth every cent.

From the park she headed to Grace's, deciding to have brunch instead of stay out all morning and end up struggling to find a table when the lunch time rush descended on the diner. She walked in, still wearing her new shoes and took a table by the window. Grace came over at once.

"Myra!" she exclaimed, glancing down. "Nice shoes!"

"Consolation prize," Myra said. "Horace can't afford for me to get a car, or even learn to drive."

"I'm sorry," said Grace. "Still, shoes are the next best thing. You wanna get a dress to go with 'em, make it a decent consolation prize."

"Maybe." Myra smiled and glanced at the menu. "I'll have some coffee, please," she said.

"Anything to eat?"

"Biscuits and gravy," Myra said with a grin. "And sausage." The one time she had ordered biscuits and gravy when she'd been with Horace, he had been horrified and said it wasn'y what 'decent people' ate.

"It'll be about ten minutes or so, is that ok?" said Grace.

"Take your time," Myra said. "Is there somewhere I can feed Samantha?"

"Of course, come through the back. You can use the little room off the kitchen, there's a table and chair in there. No one'll bother ya."

After feeding the baby Myra returned to her table and Samantha slept in the buggy while her mother tucked into her brunch. Myra was just finishing a second coffee when Jake walked in.

"Hey, Myra."

"Hello, Jake."

"Ain't seen you in a while." He bent to look inside the buggy. "Cute. How old is she?"

"Six months."

"It's been longer than I thought," Jake said, taking a seat at the table. "Don't mind, do ya?"

"No, of course not."

Jake looked up as a waitress hovered by the table. "Just coffee, thanks," he said. "And a blueberry muffin."

She poured coffee and went away to fetch a muffin.

"You alright, Myra?" Jake asked then.

"Sure, why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Ya look kinda sad."

"I'm fine."

"Sure? No trouble in paradise?" he grinned.

"No."

"You can't be gettin' much excitement, married to Horace," Jake teased.

"Go to hell, Jake!" Myra snapped suddenly.

"Woah, Myra, I was just jokin'." He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Sounds like I hit the nail on the head though."

"I don't wanna talk to ya, Jake, it's none of your business," Myra sighed, wishing she was better at hiding her feelings.

"Fair enough." He sipped his coffee. "I saw Hank again last week."

"I ain't interested in Hank," Myra said at once. "It took me all my time to get away from him, remember. Now I got what I wanted, the last thing I wanna think about is the past."

"Well, you ain't gonna be able to keep him in the past forever," said Jake. "He's doin' ok, if he carries on the way he is and keeps his fists to himself he'll get parole in less than a year, then he'll be back at the club."

Myra almost stopped breathing for a moment. Somehow she had imagined Hank would stay locked up forever and she would never have to face him again. The time had passed so quickly, it was difficult to believe he had been in prison for over a year.

"Well, I ain't plannin' on goin' clubbin' any time soon," she said now.

"Maybe not, but this town ain't that big, you're bound to run into each other at some time."

"I suppose so." Myra pushed her chair back from the table. "Sorry, Jake, I have to go."

"Sure."

Myra stood up and quickly pushed the buggy out of the diner. Ten months was a long way off. Even then, she wasn't going to let fear of running into Hank make her a prisoner in her own home. She was already a prisoner in her own life.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

As predicted, Horace was less than impressed by Myra spending a hundred and forty-nine dollars in a shoe store and would have insisted she take them back if it wasn't for the fact that by the time the credit card statement came, she'd had the shoes over fourteen days which was the allowable period for returns.

After that she took care not to buy things that weren't essential for Samantha or herself, at least for a while, but in the end she remembered the pleasure she had got out of the new shoes, if only for a brief period. Her boredom with her life only increased and Horace continued to refuse to let her do anything to relieve it, unable to understand how she could want anything more than being a wife and mother and having him look after her, considering what she had come from. No amount of explaining made him see how she felt and once again she found herself window-shopping. More than once she had been tempted to book the college course using the credit card, but she knew it would only provoke a row with Horace, worse than the one over the shoes, so she resisted this and instead decided to get herself a little treat.

The 'little treat' began with a pair of long leather boots to replace the ones she'd had that had since virtually fallen apart with age. The new ones were soft brown leather with zipper fastenings up the inside of the legs which reached almost to the tops of her calves and had enough room in them to wear with her tight jeans tucked inside. They were on sale at only eighty dollars and she was sure Horace wouldn't have much to say about that.

Wandering on down the street, Myra looked through the window of a store selling denims and cords and such and got to thinking that her old jeans weren't good enough for those new boots and perhaps just one new pair of jeans would be alright. They didn't cost very much and it wasn't like she had many clothes.

It was so easy to just hand over the Visa card, sign the slip and walk away. It didn't even seem like spending real money and by lunchtime Myra had bags hanging from both handles of Samantha's buggy and other items tucked into the carry tray underneath. As well as the boots and jeans, she had picked up a new purse, some fancy shampoo and body lotion, a smart blue suit – Horace was always telling her she needed more smart clothes to wear for church, so he couldn't object to that – and a couple of new sweaters. Then she had felt guilty about poor little Samantha, being dragged around all the stores in her buggy and not getting anything out of it so she had purchased a big cuddly bear with a pink bow around his neck and a quilted all-in-one suit for Sam to wear when they went out on cooler days.

Beaming and thinking about getting home and trying all the things on again, Myra stopped in at Grace's for lunch first and glanced through the receipts in her wallet as she tucked into a portion of shepherd's pie. She almost choked on the food as she added them up and found the total reached almost four hundred and eighty dollars and she hadn't even found the receipt for the bear.

"Oh, no," she whispered. "Horace will kill me."

She finished her meal with difficulty and walked home slowly, cheering up as she remembered that the current month's Visa statement would be in the mail already so her new purchases wouldn't even show up for another month. She wouldn't have to worry about it for ages yet.

It turned out that the traitorous statement arrived on a Friday morning, right before Samantha's first birthday and Myra stared at the list of purchases and the balance of five hundred and three dollars in horror, before hastily tearing it into little pieces and flushing it down the toilet. She reasoned that by the time another month passed, the itemised section of the statement would have been deleted and the balance could quite easily be for more than two months' worth of purchases. She would bet that letters got lost in the mail all the time, which would explain the missing October statement. Luckily Horace didn't even seem to notice when it didn't appear.

By the time the November one came the balance was over eight hundred dollars, what with a few extra things Myra had needed, plus the interest on the unpaid balance from the previous month and there was nothing she could do to cover this one up because it arrived on a Saturday and Horace got it first.

"Funny," he said as he looked at the envelope. "I don't remember one comin' last month."

"I don't either," Myra said, her back to him. Horace tore open the envelope and unfolded the statement. Myra squeezed her eyes shut and waited for him to speak.

"Eight hundred and thirteen dollars and ninety-seven cents! _Myra_!" Horace cried. "What have ya been buyin'? Eight hundred dollars!"

Myra turned around slowly. "I'm sorry, Horace, I needed a few things," she said, reddening.

"A _few_?" He looked at the itemised section for the past month. "Ninety dollars in the toy store? Fifty in that shoe store again? What's wrong with ya, Myra?" He shook the statement at her. "How much do ya think I earn? It's goin' to take every spare cent I make to pay off eight hundred dollars and it'll take months so I'm gonna have to pay interest on it as well! There's already interest on this statement from whatever ya bought last month." He dragged his free hand through his hair making it stand on end and took another look at the statement before slapping it down on the kitchen counter. "Give me your credit card," he said grimly.

"What?"

"The card, Myra. You clearly can't be trusted with it any longer. You're gonna end up makin' me bankrupt!"

"I'm sorry, Horace," Myra said again and took the wretched Visa card out of her wallet. Horace didn't just confiscate it, but cut it into several pieces with the kitchen scissors and threw them into the garbage.

Things had already been tense between Myra and Horace for some time, but with the credit card episode they went from bad to worse. Myra once again felt that she had nothing to look forward to other than the occasional visits to Grace's and to see Emma and her resentment towards Horace grew. In return, Horace didn't trust her with anything and even took to checking the grocery receipts. The occasional days out together they had had ended, they made love rarely and talked more and more infrequently. It was two weeks before Christmas when they decided to call it a day. Myra was the first to broach the subject.

"Horace, we should talk," she began.

"About what?"

"Us. If there still is an 'us'."

"What d'ya mean?"

"We're like strangers sharin' a home. Ya don't trust me and I resent not bein' able to do things. I'm like a prisoner, Horace."

He turned to look at her. "And whose fault is that? If I wasn't still payin' off that wretched credit card, I might've been able to afford for us to go out sometimes."

"We hardly went out before," Myra reminded him. "Do you even want me here any more, Horace? It seems to me like ya don't. I'm sorry for what I did, but ya can't hold it against me forever."

"I know that, but it's clear ya don't really wanna be here," said Horace with a sigh. "I ain't enough for ya. You've done nothin' but complain about things since we got married."

"I just wanted a life for myself," Myra said.

"I thought ya had one. Maybe you'd rather be sellin' yourself and takin' drugs."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Ridiculous, am I?"

"That ain't what I meant, Horace," protested Myra. "Ya know I was always grateful to ya for takin' me away from what I was."

"Grateful? You're grateful. But ya don't love me, do ya?"

"I did," Myra said softly.

"But ya don't now. Well, maybe I find it pretty hard to love you anymore, Myra. Maybe I don't want someone who's always complainin', always askin' for more, arguin' with whatever I say."

"Ya want me to leave then?" asked Myra, suddenly scared. Where could she go, with no money of her own, no job to support her and Samantha to care for?

"That might be best," said Horace. "Like ya said, I don't trust you and you resent me."

"What about Samantha?"

"I assume you'll want her with you. I can hardly raise her myself, can I? I have to work. I'll see her when I can."

"But where will I go?" said Myra, wondering if she shouldn't back down and be what Horace wanted rather than put herself and the baby in a worse situation than they were in now.

"That's up to you, ain't it?" Horace said. "I'll give ya some money to find a place and I'll put a little in your bank each week for Samantha. You're gonna have to get the job you've been longin' for so much to pay for yourself."

"But, it's almost Christmas," Myra began.

"I know, so I was thinkin', we're supposed to be visitin' my folks for a few days over the holidays. My mother ain't been so well, I don't want her upsettin' so we'll leave it until after then," Horace said.

"You want us to go and stay with your parents and pretend it's all ok?" Myra gasped.

"That's exactly what I'm sayin', Myra. I'm sure ya can manage to put up with me for two more weeks when ya know freedom is right around the corner," Horace snapped and walked out of the room.


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Christmas holiday was uncomfortable for Myra to say the least. Although she got on well enough with Horace's father, she knew Mrs Bing had never thought her good enough for Horace and remaining pleasant and polite was difficult enough without the additional pressure of keeping up a pretence with Horace and worrying about where she was going to go when they returned to Colorado Springs and she had to move out of the apartment.

By the time they left Horace's parents', Myra was exhausted and pale and simply sat in the car with her eyes closed while Horace drove home, not attempting to speak to her even once. When they arrived back at the apartment, Horace suggested that Myra find somewhere for herself to stay. He intended to drive her there the following morning with Samantha and their belongings and that would be that.

"This is all I have," he said, handing her two hundred dollars. "You'll have to manage with it. I'll pay a hundred into your bank each Friday for Samantha. It's all I can manage; I'm gonna be payin' off your credit card until the summer."

"Thank you, Horace," Myra whispered.

The following morning, Horace left Myra and Samantha with their belongings at Motel 6 on the edge of town. Myra had looked through the newspaper, hoping to find a room to rent in someone's house, but the only suitable room requested a 'single professional person' and did not allow children. Motel 6 had single rooms for twenty dollars a night, but if you booked for a week at a time, you got the week for a hundred and ten. Myra paid for a week, leaving her with ninety dollars. She figured that she could keep going for about three weeks with the additional hundred Horace gave her each Friday.

She unpacked her things in the room, put Samantha into her buggy and went out to look for work right after lunch. The first place she went was Grace's, not admitting that she and Horace had parted, but simply saying she hoped to earn some extra money.

"Oh Myra, I'm so sorry, I just took on a new girl right before the holidays to cover the busy period," Grace said. "She was only supposed to be temporary and I'm likely gonna have to let her go soon, I'm over-staffed."

"That's ok," Myra said, forcing herself to smile. "Just thought I'd ask."

By the end of the day she had tried every café and restaurant within walking distance and even a cab office which had a sign up asking for a telephone operator, but with no success. One restaurant would have been willing to give her a trial if she had experience which could be checked up on with her previous employers and the cab office didn't pay enough to cover childcare for Samantha and still pay for the room in the motel.

Myra picked up a newspaper on the way back to the motel along with some food for supper and breakfast. She pored over the newspaper, circling possible jobs with a red pen and telephoned each the following morning with no success. All wanted resumes or previous experience and she had neither.

Again she spent the rest of the day walking around the town with Samantha in her buggy, trying to find even part-time work to supplement what Horace would give her with no luck. She tried stores, a newsagent, a gas station which advertised for a pump attendant and a street burger bar, but all said no for one reason or another. She picked up the latest edition of the newspaper again and returned to the motel.

As the year came to an end and 2002 rolled in with fireworks and celebrations going on late into the night outside the motel, keeping Myra awake and Samantha crying incessantly, Myra remembered that night two years before when she had vowed to change her life on the first day of the New Year. She'd sure changed it alright; back then she'd hated her life and had a little money, following which she'd had a husband and a home, but no money and now she had neither one nor the other.

Myra decided she would try the bars next. Horace was coming over on New Year's Day to take Samantha for a few hours and she would use that time to call in at the bars and clubs to see if any of them needed staff. Surely one of them would need a barmaid or waitress.

The first thing Horace did when he arrived was to ask Myra if she had found work yet.

"I got a few possibilities," Myra said vaguely, not wanting to admit that everyone she had asked so far had turned her away. "I'll soon have something."

The bars proved to be a waste of time too. The only one with a vacancy actually advertised said they had just taken a girl on and were about to remove the ad from the window. The manager then winked and suggested he could squeeze her in as an exotic dancer as they usually had slots to fill when things warmed up.

"No, thank you," Myra said at once.

A nearby barman who had been listening in now stepped closer, staring hard at Myra. He looked a little familiar to her and she realised why as soon as he opened his mouth.

"Thought that would've been right up your street," he said with a grin. "You used to work at the Gold Nugget, didn't ya? Coupla years back?" He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. "Yeah, I remember you. Never had much life in ya; had to ask for my money back once. Your boss was spittin' feathers."

Mortified, Myra spun around and hurried out of the bar, her face flaming and something Hank had once said coming to mind. 'You ain't good for nothin' else.' Maybe she wasn't. Out of the dozens of jobs she had tried to get so far, the only one offered involved using her body.

The situation continued for the next couple of weeks with every place Myra tried to get work saying no to her. All wanted qualifications or experience with proof. Eventually she resorted to selling some of her things at a thrift store to cover another week in the motel; she sold her rings, the other few little bits of jewellery she owned, the beautiful brown leather boots and the hundred and forty-nine dollar shoes and a few other items. None of them were worth a great deal used, but she managed to squeeze a hundred dollars out of the thrift store for the lot.

Eventually Myra realised she had no choice but go to the one place she had avoided, even though she thought there was more chance of getting a job there than anywhere. The Gold Nugget. She was pretty sure that if she looked pathetic enough, Jake would take pity on her and give her a job behind the bar or even just cleaning up. She might even be able to put Samantha up in the apartment while she worked and check on her every hour so she wouldn't have to pay for childcare.

The club was the last place she wanted to work again, knowing that even if Hank served his full sentence he would be out of prison by September and from what Jake had said it would be unlikely he'd still be locked up by then. In addition she expected a number of the regulars would remember her and make comments, but that she would have to force herself to ignore. Perhaps she would only need to work there for a few weeks and then she would be able to find something else. With any luck she would be gone long before they even thought about letting Hank out of jail.

Still reluctant, Myra put off approaching Jake for another week while she used Horace's most recent hundred dollars to pay for the room again and sold Samantha's mobile and the rest of her good clothes to buy some food, but in the end there was no choice. In just four more days she would have absolutely nothing left. As it was she was going to have to ask for an advance in addition to the job. She decided that the next morning she would bite the bullet, go to the club and appeal to Jake's better nature, what there was of it. He could be generous on occasion and he'd always had a bit of a soft spot for Myra.

She turned the buggy and began to walk back up the street from the grocer's where she had bought a few reduced items for her and Samantha to eat that evening. As she halted at a crossing to wait for the traffic to stop, the stream of cars slowed in response to the red lights. As they stopped altogether, Myra stepped out onto the crossing, idly glancing to her left at the waiting cars. The one nearest the kerb was a black Mercedes SL55. The same as the one Hank had always swaggered around in. Her first thought was that it must have been sold, until she raised her eyes and noticed that the driver was Jake. He didn't see her looking at him, his head turned as he spoke to the passenger beside him.

"Oh, crap," muttered Myra, ducking her head down and walking more quickly to get to the other side of the street. The passenger was Hank. He was out of jail.

Myra hurried back to the motel, wondering how in the world Hank was free already. It was still January and he'd only gone to the prison in Denver in February 2000 with a two and half year sentence. Jake had said he'd get out around six months early, but that shouldn't have been for several weeks yet. Then something occurred to her. They had locked him up right after the engagement party and he'd stayed there until he went to court over a month later. They would have classed that period as time served and deducted it from his sentence.

"What am I gonna do now?" she whispered under her breath. She certainly couldn't go to the Gold Nugget and ask _Hank_ for work. But what other choice was there?


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Two days later, with no possibility of work and the threat of being evicted from the motel hanging over her, Myra had no choice but to go and do what she had promised herself she would rather die than undertake. She would ask Hank for a job. She set off with Samantha in her buggy and walked slowly to the club, hoping that by some miracle someone would offer to help her before she got there. Half an hour later when she was standing outside the door that led up to the apartment, she knew it wasn't going to happen and she would just have to grit her teeth and get on with it.

She still had the key to the outer door of the building, never having given it back when she left over two years ago and she used it now to get in. The last thing she wanted to do was press the buzzer and speak through the intercom. She called the elevator and a moment later pushed the buggy inside and waited, her heart in her mouth, while the car rose to the top of the building. As it came to a stop she immediately reached out to punch the 'down' button again. Who was she kidding? Hank would laugh at her or sneer; he certainly wouldn't help. Then she glanced down at the sleeping baby and remembered that unless she did something Samantha wouldn't have anything to eat the next day and nor would Myra, not to mention the fact that she could only pay for one more night in the motel. She stepped out of the elevator, halted the buggy outside the apartment door and rang the bell.

She could hear music pumping inside and recognised Nickelback. It was so loud she could make out the lyrics and she doubted Hank would hear the doorbell. She waited until the song came to an end and quickly pressed the button again. A second later the music was turned down and the door swung open.

"Myra!"

Myra's eyes widened. He had clearly just gotten out of the shower and was wearing only jeans. His hair was wet, droplets of water escaping from it and trickling down over his chest. He was bigger than before. Myra's eyes travelled down over his pecs and six pack to the top of his jeans, the thumb of his left hand hooked into one of the belt loops, the muscles in his arms bulging. She became uncomfortably aware that she was eyeing him in the same way he had looked potential girls for the club up and down in the past and she lifted her eyes to his face quickly, her cheeks warming. He was grinning, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement. Myra's mouth had gone dry and she couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"Hello, Hank," she managed eventually.

"You wanna come in?"

"Ok. Thanks."

He stepped back and she wheeled the buggy inside, following him into the lounge room where she hovered uncertainly. Hank grabbed a white t-shirt from the arm of the sofa and put it on. It was a couple of sizes too small and only emphasised the muscles. Myra tried not to look at him as he crossed the room again and looked down into the buggy.

"What's her name?" he asked.

"Samantha."

"She's beautiful."

"Thank you." Myra gripped the buggy's handles tighter, still unable to think of what to say to him.

"Where's your weddin' ring?" Hank asked suddenly, staring pointedly at her left hand.

"Umm...Horace and I split," she admitted uncomfortably.

"When?"

"A few weeks back."

"Didn't last long," he commented.

"No." Myra chewed her lip, wishing yet again that she hadn't come. She had known what she was going to say and now it had all gone out of her head and she felt like an idiot.

"Where ya stayin'?" asked Hank.

"Motel 6."

"Horace payin' for it, is he?"

Myra didn't answer.

"You need some money?" he asked her then.

Myra hesitated and the first thing that came into her mind was Hank yelling 'don't come crawlin' back when ya realise you ain't good for nothin' else.' She had remembered that when she'd been offered a job as an exotic dancer, but forgotten it when she came over here. Now she realised he would think she meant she wanted to take her old job back up and he would laugh.

She shook her head. "I ain't askin' ya for money, Hank."

"I know you ain't askin'. I'm offerin'."

"I'm fine, really."

Hank ignored her and went over to the small table by the television where his wallet lay. He picked it up, flicked through the wad of bills inside and pulled out perhaps a third of the contents, holding it out towards Myra, much to her amazement. "Here."

"Hank, I don't want your money," she protested.

"Take it. You're gonna need food and stuff for the baby."

Myra sighed heavily and took the money, much as it shamed her to do it.

"I ain't expectin' it back, or anythin' in exchange for it," added Hank, shoving the wallet into his pocket.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"So ya gonna tell me what's goin' on with you and Horace, or what?" He waved her towards the couch and threw himself into an armchair.

Myra carefully lifted Samantha out of her buggy and sat down on the couch, cradling the little girl on her lap. She was so surprised by the way he looked and the way he was behaving that she still struggled to put a coherent sentence together.

"Ain't much to it," she said reluctantly. "Just turned out we weren't suited is all."

"He hurt ya?"

"No."

"Cheat on ya?"

"No."

"Musta been somethin'."

"Hank, I don't wanna talk about that," sighed Myra.

"Sure, ok. So what ya gonna do now?" he asked.

"I'm lookin' for a job."

"Doin' what?"

Myra stared back at him, bristling suddenly. "Ya think I can't do nothin' except work on my back?" she snapped.

"Hey, I didn't say that. I'm just askin'. Ya can't keep livin' in a motel with no job. 'Specially if Horace ain't supportin' ya."

"I never said he wasn't," Myra said, flushing.

"Well, if he is, he obviously ain't payin' you enough," Hank grunted.

At that moment Samantha opened her eyes and began to cry and it was with some relief that Myra turned her attention away from Hank. She was still wishing she hadn't come, but at the same time she knew she needed the money he'd given her, which looked like it was at least five hundred dollars. If she was careful it would keep her going for weeks with the addition of Horace's money.

Samantha wouldn't be quieted and continued to scream and wriggle. Myra was tempted to cry herself, but held it back with difficulty as she bounced the baby on her lap and tried to comfort her. Much to her surprise Hank got up, walked over to the couch and kneeled down in front of her.

"Give her to me. She's yellin' 'cause you're all worked up."

"No, Hank…."

He just held his hands out, palms up. Myra leaned forward reluctantly and put Samantha into his arms, then sat back chewing her nails. Startled by the attention from someone new, Sam immediately stopped screaming and just stared up at Hank with her eyes huge and her bottom lip sticking out in that cute way she had. Hank grinned and tickled her. The pout disappeared and a gurgle of pleasure emerged.

Tears pricked Myra's eyes and she blinked rapidly. Why did he have to be so damned nice when she was so in need of someone to be nice to her?

"You're good with her," she said.

"She's a cute kid." Hank looked up at her. "Why'd ya really come here, Myra?"

"I…uh…" She avoided his eyes and stared at Samantha instead, trying to think up an excuse that didn't sound like she'd been after something. "I dunno, I heard ya got out; I guess I thought I'd see if you were ok. Y'know, you looked like hell the last time I saw ya."

"Yeah, well that was a long time ago. Took me a while, but I cleaned up. They got a gym in there, I started workin' out every day."

"I noticed," Myra blurted out, grinning suddenly. It was still impossible to ignore the bulging pecs and biceps and somehow the fact that he was holding the baby girl made him look all the sexier.

Hank smiled and reached up to pass Samantha back to her.

"Ya want a drink or somethin'? I should've asked before."

"No thanks, I should be goin'." Myra shuffled to the edge of the seat and lowered Sam back into her buggy. Hank got to his feet.

"Sure, well ya know where I am if ya want anythin'. Keep in touch, yeah? Here…" He went over to the table where the telephone sat with a notepad and pen beside it, scrawled a number on the top page and tore it off, passing it to Myra. "This is my cellphone."

"Thank you, Hank." Myra stood up and put the note in her pocket, then pushed the buggy through the door into the hallway. She rode down in the elevator and walked back to the motel in a daze, only the five hundred dollars in her purse convincing her that the astonishing encounter with Hank had been real. Maybe somehow prison had done him good.


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Along with the hundred dollars a week from Horace, the money kept Myra and Samantha at the motel for just over a month. Unfortunately the motel chain decided to put their prices up by a vast percentage on February first, increasing from twenty to twenty-five dollars a night. In addition the previous deal they had for booking a week at a time no longer existed, making Myra's weekly bill increase from a hundred and ten dollars to a hundred and seventy-five.

She continued to try every possible avenue to get work during that time, but there was simply nothing available. Several times during those few weeks Myra took out the scrap of paper which had Hank's cellphone number written on it, thinking she would have to go back to her original idea of asking him for a job in the bar, but every time she picked up the phone she lost her nerve and hung up before she had even dialled the first digit. He had helped her out once, but he'd hardly be likely to do it again. Still, there may soon be little choice. She was overdue paying the motel for the past few days and they hounded her on a daily basis, only allowing her to stay on because of her previous reliability. However, she knew their patience was wearing thin and as she returned from town with Samantha in her buggy one afternoon, she discovered she had run out of time.

"Mrs Bing!"

Myra stopped reluctantly and turned towards the motel reception desk.

"Yes?" She pushed the buggy over slowly and leaned on the counter.

"You said you'd pay the bill today. You're four days behind now," the manager said.

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry," Myra said. "Can ya give me till tomorrow?"

"No, I'm afraid that's not possible. If you don't pay today, I'll have to ask you to check out."

"Please, just give me till tomorrow mornin', I'll have the money then," Myra begged, wondering how on earth she was going to come up with the money. At least she and Samantha would get one more night with a roof over their heads before she was forced to call Hank and ask for help, regardless of what he might want in return. She doubted he would help her again from the goodness of his heart.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Bing. You're a hundred dollars in arrears."

She sighed heavily and opened up her purse. Maybe if she gave him the food money it would help. She knew she had about thirty dollars left so she could pay for one day.

"I can pay some of it," she muttered, glancing towards the door as she saw a movement from the corner of her eye. A black Mercedes SL55 with tinted windows hovered there briefly, then shot forwards into a parking space.

"Oh, no." Myra gave the manager the cash in her hand. "Will this help? I'll go out and get the rest later. Please." She was desperate to get out of the reception area and to her room before she was further embarrassed, but it was already too late. Hank strode into the building and walked towards her. He was wearing a dark suit, a white shirt and highly polished shoes and looked incredibly handsome. Myra cringed inwardly, all too aware of her faded jeans and too large sweater and the fact that she was practically begging not to be thrown out on the street.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Hank, what are ya doin' here?" she sighed, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her.

"Mrs Bing..." the motel manager interrupted. "I'll give you until five o'clock. After that, I'll have to ask you to leave."

Hank turned to look at him. "What's goin' on?" He looked at the crumpled bills in the manager's hand and Myra's mortified face, then pulled out his wallet. "What's the balance?" he asked.

"Seventy-five dollars," the manager said at once.

Hank counted out some bills and placed them on the counter.

"If Mrs Bing is planning on staying any longer, I'll have to ask for the money up front," the manager added.

"Well, she ain't stayin' any longer," Hank grunted, gripping one of the buggy handles with one hand and Myra's arm with the other, hustling both away from the reception desk. "Where's your room?"

"Hank, please, just leave me alone," Myra said.

"Your room," he prompted. "Or do ya wanna talk about this out here?"

"One-fifteen. It's through that door," Myra said, pointing. She was forced to follow as Hank marched off, pushing the buggy in front of him. She wanted to cry. Instead she pulled the room key out of her purse and opened the door. They went inside and Hank sat himself down on the single wooden chair in the corner of the room. Myra glanced at Samantha, relieved that through everything the little girl had slept and was still dead to the world. She left her where she was and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What's that jerk ya call a husband thinkin' of, lettin' ya live like this?" Hank demanded. "Does he give you anythin' at all?"

"He puts a little in my bank for Samantha each week," Myra admitted.

Hank spat something unrepeatable under his breath. "I should go over there and make him pay up," he growled.

"Hank, don't, you're on parole," Myra said worriedly.

"I ain't gonna. I'd probably kill him. Look, pack your stuff and come back to the apartment."

"I can't do that," protested Myra.

"So what are ya gonna do? How ya gonna pay for the room?"

"I dunno, I've been tryin' to get a job. I ain't got the qualifications they all ask for."

"Come back with me. Even if it's only for a few weeks, at least till ya get back on your feet," Hank said.

Myra stared at him warily. "Why would ya wanna help me?" she asked.

"Maybe 'cause we go back a long way. I ain't expectin' ya to work for me like before, so don't go thinkin' that," he added. "Come on, I got three empty rooms, you and the kid can have one each."

"There's no one else livin' there?" asked Myra, surprised.

"You mean girls? No. I ain't keepin' whores no more. I'm done with that. The club does well enough by itself."

Myra realised she really didn't have any option and she nodded slowly. "Just for a few days, then," she said. "I'll find work soon enough."

"Ain't no rush."

"Thank you, Hank." She got up and began to gather up her belongings, folding everything into the same battered old suitcase which she had taken when she ran away from him before. "Why'd ya come here?" she asked him as she gathered up the last few things and crammed them into the already stuffed case.

"Ain't heard from ya since ya came over before; I wanted to see you were ok," he said. "Lucky I came when I did." He got up and leaned on the case as Myra struggled to hold it shut and fasten it. "Is this all?"

"Yes."

"Does the buggy fold up?"

"Yes." Myra carefully lifted the sleeping baby out of it and placed her on the bed while she folded the buggy flat. Hank picked up the case and the buggy too and led the way outside. Myra followed with Samantha, handing her key in as they passed through the reception again. Within minutes the case and buggy were stashed in the trunk of the car. Hank held Samantha while Myra slid into the passenger seat and strapped herself in, then handed the baby down to her. Samantha opened her eyes then and began to gaze about her, although she didn't cry.

Ten minutes later they were back at the Gold Nugget, the car parked in the gated compound at the rear. At they rode up to the apartment in the elevator, Myra thought about the time she had left, both terrified and exhilarated, escaping from Hank to go to Horace, looking forward to a whole new life. Now she was back and she had no idea what to expect. Hank seemed so different, but would that change? Would he end up using her the way he had before? All she could do was trust him and hope for the best.


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

"Myra? You alright?"

She jumped, realising the elevator had reached the top of the building and Hank was holding the door open with his foot waiting for her to step out.

"Sorry. Miles away." She followed him out onto the landing and waited for him to open the apartment door.

"Your old room's still empty, or there's Emma's," Hank said. "Take your pick. I put a multi-gym and some other stuff in the smallest one."

"I'll have my old room," Myra said. "Sam can have Emma's; I'll be able to hear her ok through the wall."

"Ain't ya got a crib for her?" Hank asked, carrying her case into her old room which was exactly as she had left it.

"Yes, but it's still at Horace's."

Hank dumped the case in the middle of the bed and sat down on the edge of it. "Ya gonna tell me what happened with him or is it some big secret?"

Myra sighed heavily. "Is it that important?"

Hank shrugged. "Seems to be to you."

Myra turned away from him and looked out of the window, staring down at the Mercedes parked below at the rear of the building.

"It was my fault," she said.

"What d'ya do? Cheat on him?"

"No! I was just bored. I wanted more. He seemed to think bein' a housewife and mother was enough for me. We fought over it a lot. Then I cheered myself up buyin' lots of stuff on a credit card."

"That's _all_?" Hank said in disbelief.

"It didn't help."

"Ya still love him?"

Myra hesitated and then shook her head.

"So where's all this stuff ya bought?" asked Hank.

"I took it to a thrift store to pay for another week in the motel."

Hank swore viciously under his breath and got up. "Why didn't ya come here before? Jake would've helped you out."

"I know, I just didn't wanna…." Her voice trailed off.

"Risk runnin' into me?" put in Hank.

Myra turned around slowly. "Look like a fool," she said.

"You could never do that." Hank pulled his jacket off and made for the door. "Ya want a coffee or somethin'?"

"Yes, please."

He disappeared into the kitchen and she took the few minutes he was gone to pull herself together, embarrassed that she had ended up spilling everything out when she had been so determined not to. She began to unpack the suitcase and put her things away, relieved that Samantha was still fast asleep in her buggy. She felt too tense to be a comfort to the baby at that moment.

Hank returned with two mugs of coffee just as she was putting away the last few things and she straightened up and took the mug he held out to her. He leaned against the wall just inside the door and sipped his own drink.

"Ya said you were lookin' for work," he said.

"I'd do better if I'd been to college," Myra sighed. "I wanted to go. Horace thought it was pointless."

"So go to college now," said Hank. "If that's what ya want, do it."

"I can't do that."

"Why?"

"'Cause I can't pay for it."

"I'll pay for it," Hank said at once.

"No," Myra protested. "You've done enough for me already."

"Hell, what's a few hundred dollars?" Hank shrugged. "If it bothers ya that much, go to college, get your qualifications and then pay me back when you're workin'."

Myra was silent for a few moments while she drank her coffee and thought about it. It was exactly what she wanted, but she was unsure whether she could really take up Hank's offer. She wouldn't put it past him to put her in a position where she felt she owed him and then take advantage of it.

"What would ya do at college?" he asked her then.

"A computer course and somethin' like business accounts."

Hank frowned. "That interests ya?"

"Yeah. I'm good with figures. I think I'd enjoy it."

"Well, if ya wanna do it, let me know. If you're gonna do accounts, maybe you could have a look at the club's. I'm pretty sure my accountant rips me off, his fees run into thousands. You could pay me back that way."

"Thanks, Hank, I'll think about it," Myra said.

"Sure. You gonna be alright here? I need to go out for a while."

She nodded and he turned and left the room. A couple of minutes later she heard him leave the apartment. Samantha woke up shortly after and Myra attended to her, then went into the kitchen and looked around for ingredients thinking she could cook something later, but the cupboards were bare save for a packet of spaghetti and some potato chips and the only things in the refrigerator were a carton of milk and some cold pizza. She decided to wait until Hank got back and then go out to buy something for Samantha to eat with her last five dollars. She took the baby into the lounge room and sat down to watch television while she waited.

Hank returned an hour later with a large box and two plastic bags and dumped the lot in the middle of the room.

"What's all that?" asked Myra.

"A cot and beddin' and stuff."

"Hank, ya shouldn't have done that," she protested uncomfortably. "Ya can't keep givin' me things."

"I ain't givin' it to you, it's for Sam," he replied with a grin. "She can't sleep in Emma's bed, can she? She might roll out of it and smash her head on the floor."

Myra stared at him in surprise as he sat down on the floor and pulled the flat-packed baby's cot out of its box and began putting it together. It was made of pink-painted wood and the pieces slotted together easily. The two bags contained bedding with pink rabbits and butterflies on them. Myra's eyes filled with tears and she blinked them away rapidly, lowering the now dozing Samantha into her new bed.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I…uh….I was gonna go out and get some things for her to eat," she said then.

"Ya better get stuff for all of us to eat, I only got leftover pizza," Hank said with a grin, pulling his wallet out. He handed her a hundred dollar bill. "Get what ya like, I'll eat anythin'."

Myra put the money in her purse and reached for Samantha's buggy again.

"Leave her here," said Hank at once. "No sense disturbin' her now she's sleepin'."

"Oh, but…" Myra began to protest.

"She ain't gonna come to no harm," interrupted Hank.

"Alright. I won't be long." Myra left the apartment and hurried to the supermarket, stocking up on things for Samantha, basic cupboard staples, breakfast foods and ingredients to make her favourite chilli recipe which had been the first thing Grace taught her to cook. As she returned to the club laden with bags of groceries, she went over and over the events of that day in her head, still finding it difficult to believe that Hank could have changed so much. All she could do was make the most of it and take one day at a time.

It was Hank's turn to be surprised when Myra returned with the groceries and began putting everything away except for the chilli ingredients. Previously when she had lived there, neither she nor Emma could cook and the three of them had lived on takeout or microwave dinners. Hank now hung around the kitchen watching with interest as Myra chopped and sliced and measured and the smell of simmering chilli began to permeate the apartment.

"Ya know when I last had a proper cooked meal, not countin' restaurants?" he said. "I was about ten years old."

"Well, at least I can do somethin' useful while I'm here," Myra said with a smile, dipping a spoon into the mixture and holding it out to him. "Try this and let me know if ya want it any hotter."

Hank took the spoon and licked it. "Mmm," he said at once. "Bit hotter, though."

Myra dumped in more chilli flakes. Hank left her to it and went to watch television. When she took him a plate of food on a tray, he dug into it with gusto.

"I hope you're gonna stick around for a while," he said with a grin.

Myra immediately stiffened and glared at him. "Like a housekeeper, ya mean?" she blurted out and then reddened.

"I didn't mean that, I ain't Horace," said Hank. "I meant because I appreciate ya goin' to all this effort."

"I'm sorry," Myra sighed. "I guess I just ain't sure how to feel about bein' back here. I'm gonna start feelin' like I owe ya."

"Trust me, ya don't owe me a thing," Hank said meaningfully. "If anythin' it's the other way around." He shovelled the last forkful of chilli into his mouth. "Ya think any more about goin' to college?"

"I'd really like to do it," Myra said after a brief hesitation. She had scarcely stopped thinking about it and realised the only way she could have money of her own was to do the course and then look for a proper job. "I missed the beginnin' of the winter semester, but there's a new course startin' right after the Easter break."

Hank got up and took his tray into the kitchen, then returned and placed a Gold Mastercard on the arm of the chair beside Myra. "Get it booked, then," he said.

"Ain't ya gonna ask how much it costs?" she asked in surprise.

"Nope." He glanced at his wristwatch and then picked up his suit jacket. "I gotta get down to the club. See ya tomorrow, ok?"

"Sure. Thank you." Myra watched him head out of the door, suddenly filled with hope. It seemed that for once she had something to look forward to, at the hands of the one person she had only ever thought would bring her misery.


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

By the end of the first week at the apartment above the club, Myra felt a little as if she had never been away, only things couldn't have been more different than they were the first time. Hank was pleasant and friendly and never gave any indication that he expected anything more than a room mate.

Myra had spoken to the local college a number of times and discovered much to her delight that she could attend a basic and intermediate computer skills course at the college on Monday and Thursday afternoons over two semesters, starting after Easter. In addition there was a business course available to study from home which meant she only needed to have Samantha looked after for the two afternoons when she had to actually go into the college and it was also cheaper. The two courses came to less than six hundred dollars and she booked both, then dreaded telling Hank the total she had spent. Although he had said he didn't even want to know the cost she couldn't believe he would just let her spend his money without keeping track of it. However, when she told him the two amounts that afternoon his response was, 'is that all?'

On Friday Myra had received the hundred dollars from Horace as usual and despite everything felt a little guilty about keeping it, although she reasoned that he owed it to her for Samantha. She realised she would have to let him know at some point that she had left the motel, but she put it off as long as possible, knowing he would demand to know where she had moved to. In the meantime she used the money for diapers for Samantha and a new mobile to replace the one she had taken to the thrift store, then a couple of items of clothing for herself.

The following week she spent the hundred dollars on food and cleaning products for the apartment, then on Saturday morning took Samantha out to visit Emma. It was a while since they had seen each other and she realised Emma didn't even know that she and Horace had separated. In fact no one knew yet except Jake who had come up to the apartment to see her after Hank told him she was there.

Emma was delighted to see her and Samantha and gave Myra a little summer dress she had made for the baby.

"I've been hopin' you'd drop by so I could give it to ya," she said. "I was gonna drop it into your apartment, but I didn't think Horace'd wanna see me there."

"I ain't there no more, we split," blurted out Myra.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," said Emma. "I thought you were so happy."

"I was for a while." Myra proceeded to fill her in about her boredom and Horace's refusal to let her do anything other than keep house and be a mother. "I stayed at Motel 6 until a coupla weeks ago when I ran outta money," she said.

"So where are ya now?"

"The club."

"The Gold Nugget? You went back?" Emma's eyes widened. "Why would ya wanna go back to that after everythin' ya went through? I heard Hank was out, but I ain't seen him. I doubt he's changed, has he?"

Myra laughed. "You'd be surprised. I ain't workin' for him, I'm just stayin' there. I'm gonna go to college in a few weeks and then get a proper job."

"And he's lettin' ya stay there? Free?"

"Yeah. He ain't the same person he was before."

"A leopard never changes its spots," Emma said sceptically. "What's he on?"

"Nothin', he's clean."

"Do ya trust him?" asked Emma.

"I ain't sure yet. I kinda keep expectin' him to sneak in my room like he used to, but he ain't so far. At least me and Sam have a roof over our heads and Hank paid for my college course."

"Really?" Emma giggled. "Prison must've done him good."

The pair gossiped for another hour before Myra left, deciding to call on Horace while she was out and get it over with. She walked slowly through town, not looking forward to speaking to him and hoping that he wouldn't be home, however, when she pressed the buzzer outside the main door to the block he answered almost immediately.

"Horace, it's Myra," she said.

There was silence for a moment before he said, "Ya better come up," and buzzed her in.

Myra felt queasy with nerves by the time she reached the fifth floor. Horace had already opened the door for her and she was glad she had taken Samantha with her. Hopefully her presence would keep Horace from shouting at her.

"I was gonna arrange to see her next weekend," he said. "How's she doin?"

"Great. Outgrowin' all her clothes." Myra picked up the baby and passed her to Horace.

"I hope you ain't askin' for more money, Myra, 'cause I'm still payin' off that Visa card," he muttered.

"I ain't after your money, Horace," she said with a sigh. "I came by to tell ya I left the motel, in case you were thinkin' of droppin' by to see Sam."

Horace stared at her. "Ya get a job then?" he asked.

"Not yet. I'm goin' to college after Easter, then I'll get a job. A good one."

"College? How're ya payin' for that?" he asked. "And where're ya livin'?"

"I…uh…I'm stayin' at the club," she said.

"The Gold Nugget? With _Hank_? He's outta jail?"

"Yeah," Myra said shortly.

"Well, that explains you suddenly bein' able to afford to do college courses," Horace sneered. "Enjoyin' seein' your old customers again, are ya?"

"It ain't like that," said Myra, flushing. "I ain't workin' there."

"No? Hank payin' for ya to go to college, is he? I wonder why he'd do that, Myra? Hank don't give nothin' away for free. It's my guess he's keepin' ya busy all by himself. Musta been pretty hard up for female attention for the last coupla years."

"He ain't been near me," Myra snapped. "Not that it's any of your business."

"I think it is my business when my daughter's livin' under the same roof as that animal!"

"I don't see ya doin' much to keep us outta there," said Myra. "How far d'ya think a hundred dollars a week goes, Horace?"

"That ain't my problem."

"Yes, it is. You're still my husband and you're Sam's father. That makes ya responsible. I can't conjure up money outta thin air, so I did the best I could to keep a roof over our heads. If ya don't like it, I'm sorry, but it's too bad."

"Well then, there're gonna be some changes," said Horace. "I want Sam to come and live with me."

"You already said you're too busy workin' to raise her," Myra reminded him.

"If she's with me, the hundred dollars I give ya for her will pay for a babysitter."

"So you'd do what ya always told me was wrong? Dump her on some stranger while ya work?"

"I…uh…well, I'm gonna think about it," Horace blustered. "I want what's best for her and since you've gone back to the gutter where ya came from, I don't think that's with you."

"Well, take your time thinkin' about it, Horace," Myra hissed. "And think about where you're gonna get the money for a lawyer, 'cause you're gonna have a fight on your hands!" She pulled the door opened and steered Samantha's buggy out into the hallway, half expecting Horace to follow her as she waited for the elevator, but he said nothing more and closed the door after her none too gently.

Myra walked slowly back towards town, deciding to call in at Grace's for a coffee and a chat before she returned to the club. The diner was fairly quiet for a Saturday and she sat down by one of the rear windows, gazing out towards the car lot while she waited for a waitress to bring her some coffee. There was no sign of Grace and Myra guessed she must be in the kitchen cooking. Her eyes came to rest on Hank's Mercedes and she frowned slightly, wondering what he could be doing here. However, there was no sign of Hank himself and as she watched, Robert E got into the car and drove it into a space between two others, got out and placed a card on the windscreen which said, 'For Sale - $45,000.'

"Oh, my God!" Myra stood up suddenly, startling the waitress who had just appeared at her table with a coffee mug. "Sorry, don't bother, I gotta go," she said, hurrying to the door. What on earth was Hank doing selling his car? Was the club in trouble?

When she arrived back at the apartment she found Hank outside, locking the gate to the compound at the rear.

"What're ya doin'?" she asked. "I was just at Grace's. Why'd ya sell your car?"

Hank grinned. "I traded it in for a new one."

"Oh!"

"Wanna see it?" he asked, unlocking the gate again.

"Sure." Myra expected he would have bought himself some other fancy expensive sports car to swan around in, so when she turned the corner to the parking area behind the building and saw the brand new Jeep Grand Cherokee her mouth fell open. Hank took the keys out of his pocket and pressed the button on the fob to turn off the alarm and unlock the car.

"It's a….um…." Myra stammered, astonished.

"Car suitable for kids?" Hank pulled open one of the rear doors and Myra's eyes landed on the baby seat secured there. "Ain't really safe drivin' around with Sam on your lap," he added.

"Ya sold your car to get this? For us? But ya love that car," gasped Myra.

Hank just shrugged. "I was gonna change it anyhow. I can get another later." He grinned as Myra remained speechless. "Thought we could take Sam out somewhere tomorrow," he said.

"Ya don't have to do that," Myra said softly.

"I want to. You think about where ya wanna go and we'll go there." He locked the car again, ushered her out of the gate and secured it behind them.


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Over the next few weeks Hank took Myra and Samantha out in the new car several times although it was usually only to another nearby town to look around, buy a few things and have some lunch. The weather was still too cold to do much outdoors, particularly with Samantha.

Myra had at last begun to get used to Hank being generous and considerate and had stopped expecting him to suddenly return to the way he had been before. She had discovered that she actually liked him and had almost forgotten the way he had treated her when she worked for him. He was wonderful with Samantha and that, even more than the way he treated Myra herself, endeared him to her. She had found herself wondering if anything would ever happen between them again. Hank hadn't made any advances towards her, but she was aware of the way he looked at her and it wasn't the way one generally looked at a room mate.

It was Good Friday and Myra had put Samantha to bed and retired early herself with a book, reading until she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. It was barely eleven o'clock and the club would be jumping for three or four hours yet, although the sound from it was so faint it was almost unnoticeable. Myra put the book down, turned off the light and fell instantly asleep.

She woke some hours later at the sound of Samantha crying out. Glancing at her clock, she saw it was approaching four. She waited to see if the little girl called out again. Sometimes she merely fell asleep again after a single cry.

"Mommy!" Samantha shouted persistently.

Myra pushed back her quilt and slid out of bed, yawning. She straightened her short satin nightgown and opened the door. The baby was quiet again, but Myra decided to check on her anyway since she was up. Rubbing her eyes she went to the open door of Sam's room and looked inside. Much to her surprise she saw Hank, wearing just a pair of half-fastened pants, holding Samantha in his arms.

Myra stopped in the doorway and watched. Hank hadn't seen her and she remained there as he bounced Samantha gently, making her giggle. The little girl stretched her hand out suddenly and grabbed a handful of Hank's hair, tugging at it until he tickled her ribs, making her let go and wave her arms at him in protest.

"Daddy!" she cried.

Myra's breath caught in her throat and she put her hand over her mouth as she continued to watch. Hank squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back, holding Samantha closer to his chest. Almost instantly sleepy, she began to nod, her head bumping against him. He looked down again and Myra noticed tears rolling down his cheeks. Her heart swelled and she walked into the room slowly and went to him, carefully taking Samantha out of his arms and lowering her back into her crib. Hank turned away, sniffing and scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Myra…." he began thickly.

"Sshhh." She glanced at the sleeping baby, then slid her hand into his and led him out of the room and back to her own. She paused to close the door quietly behind them and Hank went to sit on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging. Myra hesitated for a long moment before she went to sit beside him. He didn't move and after another minute she reached up and stroked his hair away from his face, then rested her hand on the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry," he grunted.

"It's alright, it don't matter."

"No, I mean for everythin' I ever did to ya. It's pretty much all I thought about in jail."

"It's in the past, Hank. Ya gotta forget about it," she said softly. "I have."

"Ain't that easy. I wish I could go back and do things different."

"You're doin' them different now."

"It's too late," he said roughly.

"Is it? What do ya really want, Hank?"

He turned to look at her at last. "I want you, Myra. Always did. I was just lousy at showin' it. I didn't wanna care about ya. The one time I did have feelin's for someone it damn near killed me. The idea of goin' through that again after Clarice scared the shit outta me."

"I ain't Clarice, Hank," Myra said.

"I know."

"Ya never told me what happened with her," said Myra. "I know you were both young and she got pregnant; then she died about a year before I met ya, but that's all."

"Ya don't wanna hear about that," he muttered.

"I do."

Hank sighed heavily. "I loved her," he said eventually. "Thought she loved me. After Zach was born she made it pretty obvious she loved any guy who showed her attention. They weren't even payin' for it. She resented me for givin' her the kid; said I ruined her life."

"I'm sorry," said Myra.

Hank shrugged. "I guess I should've walked away, but I hung around for another five years like the sucker I was, hopin' she'd change her mind. Never happened."

"How'd she die?" Myra asked him.

"Smack," he said shortly. "In some other guy's bed."

"I ain't gonna treat ya like that." She slid her hand into his again, but he pulled away.

"If ya did it'd only be what I deserve." His eyes dropped away from her face for a moment and then lifted again. Much to her surprise, he picked up her bathrobe where it lay on the foot of the bed and dropped it into her lap. "Put this on. I was locked up for a long time and I ain't been with no one since I got out neither."

Myra's already rapidly thumping heart now skipped a couple of beats altogether. She pushed the robe off her legs onto the floor and lifted her hand to touch his face. "Maybe it's time ya did then."

"This ain't what ya want, is it?" Hank said slowly.

"Maybe I didn't when I thought I had no choice. You're a different person now and I ain't workin' for ya no more, so I get to choose."

Hank leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly against hers. She closed her eyes and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. Her heart, which had already been thumping unevenly, now pounded as if it would burst. She slid her arms around Hank's neck and pressed against him, feeling his hands running down her back, then up over her ribcage to cup her breasts. Myra shivered with pleasure, her excitement mounting rapidly. It was just the same as it had always been only a hundred times better, because this time she didn't feel used or ashamed or guilty.

She opened her eyes again as Hank drew back, his hands dropping to her waist and gripping tight as he picked her up and laid her in the middle of the bed, kneeling over her and unzipping his pants, pushing them down a few inches.

"Ya know this is gonna be real quick," he said with a sheepish grin.

"Yeah, but we got the rest of the night," Myra said softly.

Hank bent to kiss her again, his hands resting either side of her on the mattress. She slid her arms around him, stroking her hands down his back and drawing her knees up either side of him. As he thrust into her, she rolled her head back, gasping as his mouth left hers and touched her throat instead.

He was right, it was real quick, but after more than two years without a woman that was no great surprise. He pulled away from Myra, removed his pants and lowered himself onto her again. She ran her hands over his shoulders and arms, admiring the hard muscles, then drew her fingers through his hair, pulling him down for another kiss as he slid into her again.

Hank slipped his hands under her, gripping her hips and holding her tight to him as he rolled onto his back. She drew her knees up beneath her and sat up, peeling the short nightdress off over her head. He ran his hands over her body, stroking, teasing, driving her crazy so that by the time he erupted for the second time, she was with him.

Myra lay down then, her head resting on Hank's shoulder, her hand on his chest feeling his heart beating in time with her own. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

"God, Myra, I missed ya," he groaned.

"I missed you too," she whispered. She closed her eyes, wondering if Hank would go back to his own room or stay with her. He stayed. She began to drift into sleep and was vaguely aware of him moving away from her, but then he simply pulled the quilt out from beneath her and covered her up before he lay down again and slid his arm around her. She fell asleep with a smile on her lips.

When she woke again it was still dark. She was lying with her back to Hank and he was kissing her neck, touching her, pressing himself against her. She shifted slightly, intending to turn towards him, but he held her still, nibbling her ear, gently squeezing her breasts, his thumbs teasing the nipples, his erection nudging against the backs of her thighs. He took her from behind, so gently this time that she wondered if she could be dreaming. Hank had never been gentle. He went at it like a bull in a china shop just like he did everything else. Afterwards when she lay in his arms gradually dozing off, she felt herself begin to fall for him all over again.


	22. Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Myra woke to find herself alone. The room was light and she glanced at the clock, amazed to see that it was nine-thirty.

"Samantha," she muttered, sitting up quickly, surprised the little girl hadn't been screaming for her breakfast before now. She pulled her nightdress on over her head and then paused when she heard Hank talking.

"What does Mommy have for breakfast, huh? Muesli? I sure didn't buy that shit for me, looks like chicken feed. Ssshhh, don't tell her I said that; she'll have me locked up again for teachin' you cuss words."

Smothering a giggle Myra lay down again, listening to Hank banging and clattering in the kitchen until he eventually appeared ten minutes later, holding Samantha in one arm, her fingers tangled in his hair, balancing a tray in the other hand. He passed the tray to Myra, then sat down on the edge of the bed. He was still wearing only his pants and Myra had to tear her gaze away from him to look at the tray. He had made her a mug of coffee and a bowl of muesli with too much milk and a soup spoon to eat it with. A large sunflower lay along one side of the tray.

"Thank you, Hank," she said, surprised.

He smiled back. "Already had ours, ain't we, babe?" he said to Samantha.

"You fed Samantha? What did ya give her?" Myra asked, slightly worried.

"Mashed banana, that's what she likes, right?"

Myra nodded, speechless. "You're amazin'," she managed at last, thinking that Hank must have changed the baby's diaper too otherwise she would have still been yelling.

"I wouldn't go that far," Hank said.

"Sunflowers are my favourite flower." Myra touched the bright petals, wondering where the single bloom had come from. The house behind the club had sunflowers in their back yard, the cheerful yellow heads looking out over the wall. She smiled at the thought of Hank going down there and helping himself to one.

"I know," said Hank. "Ya said they were when we first came from Denver and there were some outside that crappy motel we stayed in before me and Jake bought the club."

"I can't believe ya remembered that." Smiling, Myra picked up the coffee mug and sipped, then began to eat her muesli as she watched Hank play with Samantha. She never would have imagined in her wildest dreams that Hank would be good with a baby, but over the past few weeks he had been more natural with her than Horace had ever been.

Myra was finishing the last few spoonfuls of muesli when something occurred to her. She had noticed a couple of things in the weeks she had been back at the club, but dismissed them. When Samantha had been born neither Myra nor Horace had been able to figure out why the baby was blonde when Myra had brown hair and Horace almost black. Horace decided it must be down to his grandmother who was their only lighter-haired relative. In addition Sam's blue eyes were a mystery; Horace's were brown and Myra's green. Was it possible? Could Samantha be Hank's?

Myra glanced from one to the other and wondered if it was her imagination or if her baby really had Hank's nose. Maybe she was making it seem that way in her mind because she wanted Sam to be his.

"What's wrong?" Hank asked suddenly.

"Nothin'." She couldn't bring herself to say what she had been thinking, at least not until she had considered it some more. "I was just thinkin' how different you are. From before."

"Well, maybe it's just that this is the real me you're seein'," Hank said. "I guess I always kept him hidden upto now."

"I like the real you," said Myra. "I hope he's here to stay."

"Does that mean _you're_ stayin'?" asked Hank. "Even if you already had work and didn't have to?"

Myra nodded without hesitation. "I'm stayin'."

Hank got up, took the tray from her and lowered Samantha into her arms, then bent to kiss her warmly. He backed off after a moment and left the room to take a shower.

The rest of the day turned out to be so busy that Myra barely saw anything of Hank. She went out as usual to stock up at the supermarket and Hank was tied up organising deliveries of alcohol for the club and meeting with Jake and a couple of men who wanted to arrange a bachelor party for their friend. Myra went to Grace's in the afternoon, remembering that her previous visit had been interrupted when she had seen Hank's car for sale and she hadn't spoken to Grace since. She imagined Grace and Robert E would have been gossiping by now and decided she should go and see them in case they thought she was avoiding them.

Grace noticed Myra arrive and came out into the diner immediately, inviting her to go through to the kitchen.

"I've been wonderin' when you were gonna show your face!" she exclaimed. "What's been goin' on? I can't believe you're back at the club after everything Hank did to ya!"

Myra went over the story again and although Grace initially looked sceptical, she was forced to admit that Hank had changed, if only because he had traded in his pride and joy for the Jeep in order to take Myra and Samantha out.

"He ain't got ya workin' for him again, has he? Apparently not, since ya look happy."

Myra shook her head.

"You're…together?"

"I ain't sure yet," said Myra hesitantly. "It looks that way, but it's early days." She had been filled with nervous excitement all day, but didn't want to tempt fate by being too optimistic. From everything Hank had said and done it seemed like he was serious about her, but for all she knew he might have been thinking about it all day and regretting getting close to her. He had after all locked away his feelings for years.

"You insane, girl?" cried Grace.

"Maybe I am," Myra said with a smile. "I guess I'll have to see how it goes."

By the time she returned to the club it was just opening and she went straight up to the apartment to get Samantha her dinner, then put her down for a nap and settled down in front of the television. She watched a number of programmes, but couldn't have said what any of them were about. She kept going over and over the events of the last twenty-four hours in her head, her stomach full of butterflies and her heart thumping alternately with excitement and nerves. She kept telling herself that Hank wouldn't have behaved the way he did if his feelings for her weren't real and she'd certainly never seen him cry before, but then she told herself he'd probably spent all day kicking himself and wouldn't want a repeat of the previous night.

Just before ten Myra took a shower, then wrapped herself in a towel while she dried her hair. She had expected Hank to appear at some point throughout the evening to get some supper, but since he hadn't she had begun to think he was avoiding her and waiting for her to go to bed before he came up. She left her room and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, not bothering to switch on the light. When she heard the apartment door open and close her heart jumped into her mouth and she held her breath. She heard footsteps for a couple of seconds and then silence. What was he doing? She peered out of the kitchen and saw Hank knock lightly on her bedroom door.

"Myra?"

When he didn't get an answer, he sighed heavily and turned to go to his own room, dragging one hand through his hair. Myra put her glass down quickly and followed him.

"Hank? Sorry, I was in the kitchen."

He stopped and turned around, eyeing the skimpy towel covering her and much to her surprise, looking as nervous as she felt.

"You ok?" he asked.

"Yes, I was just gettin' ready for bed." She smiled up at him tentatively.

"You…uh…want some company?"

"Sure." Myra relaxed, immediately forgetting her worries. She stepped closer and lifted her hand, resting it on Hank's chest. His heart was hammering. Hank cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head back and bending to kiss her. His lips caressed hers lightly, almost teasingly for a long moment before his tongue thrust into her mouth and he jerked her harder against him. Their kisses became more urgent and somehow the towel and Hank's shirt disappeared before they had even made it to her room.

When they eventually stepped into the bedroom, Myra pushed the door shut gently and leaned back against it, her eyes still closed, trembling from head to foot as Hank devoured her, his hands stroking up and down her body. She slid her hands between them, unfastening his pants and freeing his pulsing erection so that it jabbed against her stomach. Hank pulled his mouth away from hers, gasping for breath, slid his hands around to her buttocks and lifted her up. Myra curled her legs around him and gripped his shoulders as he slid smoothly up into her. As he thrust into her, his body shoved her hard against the door, almost crushing the breath out of her. She held onto him tightly, biting her lip hard to stop herself crying out and waking the baby as he drove her rapidly to a breath-taking orgasm. When it was over he carried her over to the bed, lowered her carefully onto it and then stripped off the rest of his clothes quickly before lying down and drawing her into his arms.

They lay holding each other, eyes half closed, exchanging soft little kisses until both were ready to make love again. Some time later Myra lay awake, Hank's arms tight around her, listening to him breathing as he slept, her heart still thumping unevenly and her emotions bubbling up inside her. She knew there was no going back for her now; she was in love with him.


	23. Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

After that night, Myra and Hank slept together more often than they slept apart. Sometimes if there was a function on in the club such as the bachelor party, Hank stayed down there until gone four o'clock and didn't disturb Myra when he returned to the apartment, but most days he would get away before midnight if possible and join her in her room. They seemed to fall almost accidentally into a relationship without really discussing anything further ahead than the next day.

Just over a week later Myra started her study courses. The computer course ran for three hours on two afternoons and although initially she had intended to find someone to mind Samantha, having thought of asking Emma, it turned out that she didn't need to. Hank offered to watch the baby and after only a brief hesitation she agreed. She knew Samantha wouldn't come to any harm in his care and would probably actually be spoiled rotten.

Myra studied for the business course at home and put in twice as many hours as what was required to pass the course, thinking that if she could complete the work in one semester instead of two, she could take the exam in the summer and have one qualification much sooner than she hoped. She enjoyed both the courses and found she picked up both subjects quickly.

On the Thursday of the second week, Myra returned from college at four-thirty to discover that much to her surprise, Hank had taken Samantha out on a shopping spree. She discovered them sitting on the sofa in the lounge room watching a DVD of Disney's 'Lion King', Sam clutching a huge stuffed toy Simba and staring avidly at the screen with round eyes. Myra watched from the door for a moment, her heart skipping a beat before it settled down into hammering against her ribs.

When she had walked over here that day just a few short months ago, desperate and dreading having to ask Hank for help, she had never dreamed that things would turn out the way they had. She was truly happy for the first time in her life and the choice she had made when she had actually had none, had ended up being the best one she could have made. Hank had become a much better father to Samantha than Horace had been and it occurred to her that Horace hadn't even made an attempt to see Samantha since she'd told him they were at the Gold Nugget, his threats about trying to get custody of the little girl unfounded.

Now Myra walked into the room, stopped behind the sofa and leaned down, sliding her arms around Hank's neck and kissing his cheek, not even thinking about what she meant to say before she opened her mouth.

"I love you," she whispered.

Hank half turned around immediately and looked up at her, raising one hand to touch her face.

"Ya mean that?"

"Yes, I mean it."

"I love you too, Myra." He slid his hand around to the back of her neck and pulled her closer to kiss her on the lips. When she drew back he was gazing at her with an adoring expression in his eyes.

Samantha reached out suddenly, grabbing at Hank's shirt and pulling.

"Daddy! Lookit!" she exclaimed, waving her other hand towards the television. "Simba!"

"I'm lookin', honey." He turned his attention back to the screen for a moment. "I wish she was mine," he said softly.

Myra's heart which was still thumping rapidly, sped up even more. She had to tell him what she had been thinking.

"I been thinkin' lately that she might be," she said.

"What?" His eyes quickly met hers again.

"The scan said she was conceived on first or second January. We were together on the first. She's got your colourin', not mine or Horace's. I keep lookin' at her and the more I think about it, the more I think she's yours."

Hank gasped. "How can ya be sure?"

"I ain't, but we can find out. They can do tests."

"How soon?"

"Let's find out." Myra went over to the telephone and looked up the number for Dr Mike's surgery. Her secretary answered.

"Hello, I wanna make an appointment, please," she said.

"Certainly, what name please?" asked the secretary.

"Myra…..Bing."

"Is it urgent?"

"Not what you'd call urgent, I guess, but it is to me," said Myra.

"Dr Quinn can fit you in at six-thirty, we had a cancellation," she was told.

"Oh, well that's good, thanks very much," Myra said. She hung up the phone and glanced at the clock before looking back at Hank. "I got an appointment at six-thirty tonight."

"That soon? Shit!" Hank exclaimed. "Sorry."

"That's gonna be Sam's new favourite word if you ain't careful," Myra said with a wry smile.

"Ship!" shouted Samantha.

Hank grinned. "So long as she sticks with that." He got up and walked around the back of the sofa, leaving Samantha to watch the movie alone.

"I can't believe ya took her out shoppin'," Myra said to him, smiling.

"We got somethin' for you while we were at it," Hank said. "It's in your room." He grasped her hand suddenly and drew her out of the room and into her bedroom. Sitting on the bed was a laptop computer and a canvas bag with a long strap to carry it in. "Figured you'd be needin' one soon enough."

"Oh, Hank! Ya spoil me far too much." She slid her arms around him and reached up to give him a kiss. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Myra picked up the laptop and the operating instructions book which came with it and returned to the lounge room to try it out while Samantha watched the rest of her movie. It took her mind off the impending doctor's appointment a little, until it was time to leave at six-fifteen.

Hank drove Myra and Samantha to the surgery and by six twenty-five, the three of them sat in Dr Mike's waiting room, Myra watching Samantha who sat on the floor in front of her playing with some building blocks from the surgery's toy basket and Hank fidgeting and shuffling, running his hands through his hair every so often and picking at his nails. Myra reached over and slid her hand into his, squeezing it tight. He looked more nervous than she was herself.

After a few more minutes an elderly gentleman came out of Dr Mike's office and let himself out of the building. No one else was waiting and the secretary looked over at Myra then.

"You can go in now, Mrs Bing," she said.

"I'll go in first and tell her," Myra told Hank.

"Yeah, don't wanna give the doc a heart attack," he grinned.

Myra picked up Samantha and walked through to the office.

"Hello, Myra, how are you?" Michaela asked.

"Fine thanks, Dr Mike." Myra closed the door and sat down, settling Samantha on her lap.

"And what about Samantha? It's a while since I've seen her; she's grown so."

"She's doin' great, we both are."

"Nothing's wrong? So what do you need to see me about, Myra?" the doctor asked with a smile.

"Umm." Myra avoided looking at her and wondered how on earth she could broach the subject. "It's about Samantha," she began.

"Yes?" the Michaela prompted.

"I ain't sure she's Horace's."

"Oh!" The doctor looked both startled and shocked.

"I loved Horace when we were together and I always thought he was her Dad, but the more I look at her lately, I think….I know he ain't. She was conceived the first couple of days in January the scan said. I think it was right before I left the club."

"Oh, Myra." Michaela's eyes were sorrowful. "Have you any idea…?"

Myra smiled wrily and nodded. "Don't look like that, Dr Mike. I was always real careful with the customers. None of 'em ever got near me without a rubber."

"So if it wasn't…" Michaela's eyes widened further. "Hank?" she said.

"Yes."

"You think Samantha is _Hank's_?"

"I'm pretty sure. They got the same colourin' and she's got his nose. She ain't nothin' like Horace. Ain't much like me either, come to that. Neither of our families have got any trace of blue eyes for a start."

"Most babies are born with blue eyes," said Michaela. "They change as they get older."

"Yes, in the first few months, ya once told me. Sam's eighteen months old."

"That's true," confirmed the doctor. "What about Horace? Does he suspect anything?"

"I ain't talked to him in a while; we split," Myra confessed, surprised that any gossip hadn't filtered down to Michaela by now.

"I'm sorry, Myra," she said at once. "You seemed so well suited."

"Well, turns out we weren't," Myra said with a shrug. "So, how can I find out for sure about Sam? You can do some kinda test, right?"

"Well…." Michaela cleared her throat. "We can do a DNA test."

"How?"

"Just a little blood sample. The hospital has Samantha's so I'd just need some from the…uh…father."

"Well, Hank's right outside, could ya do it now?" asked Myra at once.

"He's _here?_ You talked to him about this?"

"Yes, he's…um…I'm….I moved back into the apartment above the club. He's been lookin' after us," Myra stammered, feeling her face turning red as she imagined what Michaela was thinking; no doubt much the same as Grace and Emma and anyone else who knew. Why on earth would Myra even give Hank the time of day after everything?

"You're not working for him, are you?" Michaela asked worriedly.

"No! No, not even in the bar. I'm goin' to college." Myra grinned proudly now. "I'm learnin' how to do accounts and work on a computer."

"Really? Hank's letting you do that?"

"It ain't like it was before; I do pretty much what I want. He's payin' for it and everythin' and he bought me my own computer. Even sold his fancy car to get one a baby seat can go in," Myra beamed.

"Well, I never!" Michaela smiled at her enthusiasm. "Well, I guess you better fetch him in."

Myra stood up carefully, holding Samantha on her hip and went to open the door. Hank was sitting right outside, fidgeting impatiently.

"Ya can come in now," she said.

Hank joined her in the office.

"Doc," he greeted with a nod.

"Hello, Hank. Sit down here, please," Michaela said, indicating the chair beside her desk. "I'm going to need to take a small blood sample."

"Go for your life," said Hank, rolling his sleeve up.

The doctor picked up a small packet and opened it, taking a syringe out.

"How long does it take? Y'know, to get the results?" Myra asked.

"About a week."

"Hell," muttered Hank.

"I'll see what I can do to hurry things along," Dr Mike said, drawing a small quantity of blood from Hank's arm. She withdrew the needle and placed a small cotton pad over the pin-prick as it oozed a droplet of blood. "Hold this over it for a minute; it won't bleed much. The hospital will send the results here," she added. "I'll give you a call, Myra, as soon as they come in."

"Thank you, Dr Mike." Myra stood up, shifting Samantha to her other side. "She's gettin' heavy."

"Give her here." Hank got to his feet and took the little girl from her, looking back at Michaela. "Thanks," he added.

She smiled and saw them to the outer door of the surgery as they set off back to the club, both wondering how they were going to get through the next week until the results arrived.


	24. Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Luckily they didn't have to wait a full week for the results. As always Michaela was true to her word and had done her best to hurry things along. Myra received a telephone call the following Wednesday afternoon from the doctor's secretary, asking her to arrange to call in at the surgery.

"Do I need an appointment?" Myra asked. "Does she want to see me?"

"No, you can call in any time for your test results. Dr Quinn will be able to spare you a few minutes between appointments if you have any questions."

"Oh, thank you. I'll be there soon," she said at once, hanging up the phone.

It was a poor stroke of luck that Hank had gone to Denver earlier that day to meet with a potential new liquor supplier which was offering preferential rates to new customers for twelve months. He wasn't expected back until early evening and Jake was already downstairs in the club setting up for the night. Myra put Samantha into her buggy and took the elevator down to the groundfloor, then walked briskly to the surgery, her stomach doing somersaults and her heart in her mouth.

When she arrived only one lady was in the waiting room. Myra went to the secretary's desk and announced herself just as a second woman with a child came out of Dr Mike's office and left. The secretary excused herself to Myra for a moment and called out to the person waiting that she could go in to see the doctor. Then she picked up a sealed envelope and handed it over.

"Here you are, Mrs Bing."

"Thank you." Myra took it and pushed Samantha's buggy to a corner of the room, sitting down and staring at the envelope which bore her name for a minute or two, trying to pluck up the courage to open it. She wished Hank was with her, but since he wasn't she could either open it alone or take it home and wait for him. Taking a deep breath she slid one finger under the flap of the envelope and carefully tore it open. A single sheet of paper was inside and she drew it out and unfolded it, staring uncomprehendingly at the words printed on it, her brain failing to function in her anxiety.

Michaela's door opened and her last patient walked out, a prescription in her hand. The doctor hesitated at her door, spotting Myra in the corner and waited there a moment until she saw whether she would be needed. Myra didn't even notice her. She folded the piece of paper again and put her hands over her face, tears squeezing out from beneath her lowered eyelids. Michaela went to her immediately.

"Myra? Are you alright?"

Myra jumped and looked up.

"Why don't you come into my office?" Dr Mike suggested. "I haven't any more patients for a while."

"Mmm." Myra shoved the paper and envelope into her purse and followed Michaela as the doctor pushed Samantha's buggy into the office. Myra sat down beside the desk. "Sorry, Dr Mike," she sniffled.

"Don't worry. Here." Michaela passed her a box of Kleenex which sat on a ledge behind her desk.

"You know? The result?" Myra asked her.

"Yes, I know. Are you pleased?"

"Of course I'm pleased!" sobbed Myra. "I just…I convinced myself it wouldn't be Hank so I wouldn't be disappointed."

"Where is Hank, anyway?" Michaela asked.

"He had to go to Denver on business." Myra blew her nose loudly and wiped her eyes.

"Do you want to call him?" the doctor offered, indicating her telephone.

"No. He's gotta drive home tonight, I don't want him crashin'," said Myra, smiling at last. "He's gonna be over the moon. He's amazin' with Sam, treats her like his own already."

"I'm glad," Michaela said. "I have to admit, I was a little surprised when you came in before with Hank. After what happened when you left the club and him going to prison, I couldn't understand how you could even want to see him, but perhaps he really has turned over a new leaf. People sometimes do. As long as you're happy, Myra, that's all that matters."

"I'm happy," Myra beamed. "Except that now I gotta go and tell Horace that Sam ain't his." She grimaced now. "He's gonna hate that he raised Hank's child for over a year."

"Does he know you're with Hank now?" asked Michaela.

"No. I mean, he knows I'm stayin' there, but last time I saw him there was nothin' between me and Hank. He thought I'd gone back to my old job." She smiled wrily and then stood up. "I'll get outta your way. Thanks, Dr Mike."

The doctor showed Myra out and she walked slowly back to the club, hoping it wouldn't be too long before Hank returned.

Myra had just stepped into the apartment when Hank called from his cellphone to say he was about to leave Denver and would be back in a little over an hour. His meeting had gone well and the new suppliers would be able to save the club over thirty percent on their liquor bill for the next year and twelve percent subsequent to that. Myra held her tongue with difficulty while Hank talked, so excited to tell him her news that she almost blurted it out.

For the next hour she did her best to relax and play with Samantha, but the hands on the lounge room clock crawled around until finally Myra saw the Jeep arriving as she looked out of the window. She waited impatiently for Hank to get up to the apartment, but after another twenty minutes he still hadn't appeared and she guessed he must have gone straight into the club to speak to Jake.

Samantha was fast asleep in her crib by then, so Myra left the apartment and rode down in the elevator, unable to wait any longer. She tentatively pushed open the door leading into the club, not having set foot in there since she had left over two years before. Hank and Jake were yelling at each other and gesticulating furiously. Neither one noticed her appearance and after a minute she realised they were fighting about the new liquor deal. Jake hadn't even been happy about the meeting because the club's liquor was currently supplied by some friend of his whom he had signed up while Hank was in jail, but Hank had been determined to go and meet with the new company. Jake had expected his partner to return with details of the deal, but instead he had come back with everything signed and sealed and the first delivery already ordered.

Myra bit her lip, not daring to interrupt and was about to creep out of the bar again and return to the apartment when Hank spotted her and stopped mid-rant.

"Whaddya want, Myra?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry. Don't worry, it can wait," she said, reaching behind her to open the door again.

Hank glanced back at Jake for a second.

"We'll finish this later," he grunted and walked over to Myra, ushering her out into the corridor and closing the door after them. "Somethin' wrong?" he asked.

"Not wrong, no. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's fine. Jake'd rather throw our money away and keep his buddy on board than reduce our overheads." He bent to give her a light kiss. "So what did ya wanna talk to me about?"

Myra's lips curved up into a smile. "I heard from Dr Mike."

"She got the results already?" asked Hank, surprised.

"Yeah, I went down to the surgery to get them. Sam's yours."

"Oh my God! You're serious?" Beaming from ear to ear, Hank grabbed Myra around the waist suddenly and swung her off her feet. "She's really mine?"

"Yes," giggled Myra. "Put me down, you're crushin' me."

"What the hell are ya doin'?" Jake demanded suddenly, his angry face appearing around the door. "We got business to discuss."

"It can wait," Hank grinned, lowering Myra back onto her feet. "I just found out I got another kid."

"_What_?" Jake's jaw dropped noticeably. "You pregnant, Myra?"

"No, it turns out that Samantha Bing is actually Samantha Lawson," said Myra.

"No shit!" exclaimed Jake. "Hah! When ya plannin' on tellin' Horace?"

"Soon; best get it over with," Myra said, her smile slipping. "I better get back upstairs, I left Sam sleepin'."

"I'll come up with ya," said Hank.

"Hey, Hank!" Jake stopped him, a reluctant grin appearing on his face. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." The pair of them shook hands and then Myra and Hank went back up to the apartment.


	25. Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

It was Saturday before Myra went to see Horace. Hank wanted to go with her, but she didn't want to upset Horace any more than necessary and persuaded Hank to remain at home. She left Samantha with him and took only her purse in which she had placed the sheet of paper with the DNA test results on it. She dreaded the encounter and as she travelled to Horace's apartment by cab, her stomach knotted up and she struggled not to bite her nails.

When she rang the bell, Horace answered abruptly.

"Yes?"

"It's Myra," she said.

"What d'ya want?"

"I want to speak to you about Sam."

"Come up." He buzzed her in and a couple of minutes later she was at his apartment door.

"Hello, Horace," she said as he let her in.

"How's Hank?" Horace said sarcastically. "Workin' ya hard, is he?"

"I told ya, I ain't workin' for him," Myra said. "It ain't like before."

"No? So how is it then? Don't tell me you two are together," sneered Horace.

"I didn't come here to talk about that," Myra told him. "I wanna talk about Sam."

"Well, good, 'cause I think it's about time we sorted out custody," Horace said. "I been lookin' into it. Seems it ain't gonna cost as much as I thought to get a lawyer to deal with this."

"Horace…" began Myra.

"Let me finish!" he snapped. Myra's eyes widened and she fell silent. Horace glared at her, clenching his fists and breathing hard. "I want Sam to come and live with me," he said through gritted teeth.

"Horace, that ain't…." Myra began again.

"That's what's gonna happen!" interrupted Horace. "I ain't havin' my daughter grow up with a slut for a mother and a cokehead maniac for a step-father!"

Myra gaped at him, speechless for a long moment. She had expected him to be upset and angry, but he sounded so vicious and unlike himself that she was shocked.

"He ain't her step-father, Horace, he's her father," she said quietly.

"_What?"_ Horace took a couple of steps forward, his jaw twitching slightly and his eyes black with temper.

"Hank is Sam's father. I got a DNA test done." Myra pulled the paper out of her purse and held it out to him. "Look."

Horace dropped his eyes from her face to the document in her hand. He took the folded sheet of paper and opened it out, scanning the details on it.

"I'm sorry, Horace," Myra whispered.

"You're _sorry?_" Horace crumpled the paper slowly in one hand and dropped it on the floor. Then suddenly his hand shot out and struck Myra hard across the face. She was so stunned and surprised that she didn't even try to get out of the way. He hit her with his palm right across the cheekbone and pain exploded through the side of her head. She staggered backwards, bumping into a nearby chair and almost fell, clutching her face. She tasted blood and realised she had bitten the inside of her cheek. Tears filled her eyes.

"Horace, ya hit me," she said in disbelief.

"I…I…" stammered Horace, backing away from her. "I'm sorry, Myra." He shoved his hands into his pockets, guiltily avoiding her eyes. "Still, I suppose it's the kind of treatment you're used to."

"No," she said. "It ain't. Hank may have done some awful things in the past, but he never hit me. Goodbye, Horace." She pulled the door open and stepped out of the apartment.

Someone was just getting off the elevator and she hurried into it and pressed the 'down' button. She leaned against the wall of the car as it began to move, only realising she was holding her breath when it reached street level. She breathed out hard and walked out into the street, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering. She began to head back towards town, brushing away tears every so often, tucking her head down and trying to avoid the curious glances of passers-by. It was only when she caught sight of herself in the mirrored strip at the side of a store window that she discovered it wasn't her tears people had been looking at, but her face. Already a deep bruise was appearing across her cheekbone and it was obvious she had been struck.

"Oh, God," she said under her breath. "Hank's gonna go mad." Rather than go straight back to the club, she turned off the main street and made her way towards the park. It was mostly deserted and she sank onto a bench in relief, pulling her shaking legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees. Her heart thumped and she felt sick. She still couldn't believe Horace, who wouldn't hurt a fly, had hit her. Hank would be furious and probably go steaming over there to tackle Horace and end up getting himself arrested again.

Myra sat there alone worrying for some time, her face throbbing, wondering what to do for the best. She would have to get back to the club before six o'clock to take care of Sam.

"Myra?" Someone sat down on the bench beside her suddenly. "Are ya alright?"

She looked up reluctantly and met Sully's anxious gaze. His eyes widened when he saw the bruise.

"What happened to ya?" he asked. He turned away for a second. "Michaela! Over here!"

"Oh no," Myra whispered. She could see Michaela in the distance throwing a ball to Brian. She left the little boy now and began to hurry over.

"Myra? What happened?" Michaela sat down the other side of her. "Did Hank hurt you?"

"It wasn't Hank," said Myra.

"Then who? He's not making you work for him again, is he?" Michaela asked in horror. "I thought you said you were going to college?"

"No!" Myra exclaimed. "No. Horace hit me."

"_Horace?_" echoed both Michaela and Sully in astonishment.

"I…uh…I told him he ain't Sam's father," Myra said.

"Oh dear," sighed Michaela. "He must have been very upset, but even so, that's no excuse to hit you."

"Where's Samantha?" Sully asked suddenly.

"Hank's got her. He's gonna hit the roof," said Myra. "When he sees my face, I mean. He'll go after Horace. They'll lock him up again, he's still on parole." Her tears spilled over again and she put her hands over her face. Michaela slid an arm around her shoulders.

"We'll come back with you," she said. "You should get some ice on that bruise too, it'll help." She got to her feet and called to Brian who was now kicking his ball around with another small boy.

"Aww, Mom, can't I stay longer?" he begged. "Jimmy's Dad's right over there." He pointed to a tall blond man who was watching the game. The man raised his hand.

"We'll be here another hour," he called out. "I'm happy to watch Brian."

"Thank you," Michaela said. "We won't be too long."

Both Michaela and Sully accompanied Myra back to the Gold Nugget and the three of them rode up in the elevator. When they stepped out onto the landing Hank had already opened the door to the apartment.

"Christ, Myra, what the hell happened?" he demanded. "Did Horace do that?"

Myra nodded miserably.

"That bastard! He's gonna regret…!" began Hank, heading towards the elevator.

"Hank, don't!" cried Myra, stepping in front of him. Sully joined her.

"It ain't worth it, Hank, do ya wanna go back to jail?" he said.

"Mind your own damned business!" growled Hank. "Get outta my way!"

"Please, listen to me," Myra begged, thrusting her hands out and planting them on his chest. "I love ya. And me and Sam both need ya. Think about her; your daughter."

Hank hesitated, looking down into Myra's desperate face. Then he turned away and slammed his fist into the wall beside the elevator door. The surface was brick and it tore the skin off his knuckles, making him swear viciously and clutch his injured hand, blood oozing between his fingers. Myra put her hand on his arm and he turned towards her.

"I'm sorry," he groaned, putting his arm around her. He led her into the apartment and Michaela and Sully followed them.

"You'd better let me look at that, Hank," Michaela said. "Sully, will you get some ice from the freezer for Myra's face?"

"Sure." Sully went into the kitchen.

"Myra, do you have bandages and antiseptic?"

"In my bathroom," Myra said, pointing. Michaela fetched the required items and sat beside Hank on the sofa while she cleaned and bandaged his hand, pointing out that he was lucky he hadn't broken it. Meanwhile Sully filled a plastic bag with ice, wrapped it in a cloth and gave it to Myra to hold over her throbbing cheekbone.

Michaela then took the opportunity to have a quick look at Samantha and a little cuddle before she and Sully left.

"Ya sure you're gonna be alright?" Sully asked meaningfully, eyeing Hank as they headed for the door.

"Yeah," Hank nodded. "Thanks."

Sully nodded in return and followed Michaela out to the elevator as they set off to collect Brian from the park.


	26. Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Hank sighed heavily as Myra closed the apartment door, then slid his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

"I shoulda gone with ya," he said.

"You'd've hit him," said Myra. "Even if he didn't touch me." She pulled away slightly. "I'm gonna divorce him."

"Ya wanna use my lawyer?"

"Does he deal with divorces?" asked Myra, recalling having seen Hank's lawyer once when he visited the club. He looked like the type of lawyer who probably looked after the Mafia.

"His partner does," Hank said with a grin.

"Ok, then. Maybe ya could make an appointment for me?"

"Sure, I'll call on Monday."

Not only did Hank call on Monday, but managed to arrange for the lawyer to visit the apartment to meet with Myra the very next day. On Tuesday morning she awaited his arrival at ten o'clock somewhat nervously, wondering why Hank was grinning when he answered the buzzer and let the lawyer in. She was intimidated by the idea of being grilled by someone official and wiped her damp palms on a cloth as Hank opened the apartment door.

"Myra, this is Charlie Beauchamp," Hank said, stepping back to let the lawyer in. Myra couldn't stop her mouth falling open.

"Pleased to meet ya, Ms Beauchamp," she said, astonished. Charlie Beauchamp was a tiny woman in her forties, approximately the same height as Myra except that she was wearing four inch heeled boots. Her carrot-coloured hair surrounded her face in a mop of wild curls, freckles covered most of her cheeks and nose and bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief. She was dressed in jeans and a checkered shirt.

"Just call me Charlie," she said, beaming.

"I'll leave ya to it." Winking at Myra, Hank stepped outside and headed down to the club.

"Would ya like some coffee?" Myra offered Charlie.

"Sure, I'd love some." Charlie put a large briefcase down beside the sofa and wandered over towards Samantha where she sat on the floor playing with the huge stuffed Simba. "This must be Samantha; what a beautiful little girl," she said.

"Thank you," Myra called back from the kitchen, relaxing enormously.

"I got two girls," Charlie went on. "Twins. Just turned six last month."

"What are their names?"

"Maggie and Molly. Daft, huh? Both of them are diminutives of Margaret." She giggled loudly.

Myra returned with two mugs of coffee and handed one to Charlie. She already felt as if the woman was her friend.

"Will ya sit down?" she said.

"Thanks." Charlie put the mug onto the coffee table and threw herself into an armchair. "So, you're after a divorce," she began conversationally. "Take it the ex is responsible for your face."

"Yes." Myra launched into a description of her marriage to Horace and her astonishment that he had slapped her. "He seemed just as shocked as I was," she finished.

Charlie snorted. "Yeah, that's what they all say. Once a guy raises his hand to a woman, there's no going back. Gets to be a habit."

"Ya sound like you're speakin' from experience," Myra said.

"My girls' daddy. Nasty piece of work. Hung him out to dry in court. So let's fill in a few gaps. Where does Hank fit into all this?"

"He's Samantha's father," Myra admitted. "From before I got married."

"Uh huh?" Charlie said, eyebrows rising slightly. "Why'd you split?"

"Well, we….uh….weren't together," said Myra, reddening. "There's some stuff ya don't know."

"Well, why don't you tell me? Best if I have all the facts. Believe me, Myra, there's nothing you can say that'll shock me. My partner Bob has been Hank's lawyer a long time; I know all about his past."

"Ok." Myra took a deep breath and started from the beginning. Charlie sipped her coffee and nodded every so often as she listened. She didn't look particularly surprised by anything Myra said, until she briefly said that Hank had gone to prison for threatening her at her engagement party.

"He wasn't himself," she added. "He's over all that."

"I heard about it," Charlie said. "Even Bob couldn't keep him out of jail for that one. Well, that's not important here." She put her coffee mug down, pulled out a yellow legal tablet and began scribbling notes. "So we're gonna get rid of Horace on irreconcileable differences leading to failure to support his wife after the separation and domestic violence. Unfortunately we can't bring lack of child support into it because Samantha's not his, even though neither of you knew this at the time. Most guys will just sign the papers and get it over with. He may put up a fight, I suppose, considering his feelings about you and Hank. I can't see there's much he can fight about, although he might try to say you were unfaithful. I'll prepare the documents when I get back to the office, he'll get them before the weekend."

"I don't know how to thank you, " Myra said gratefully.

"No need, it's my job," Charlie said cheerfully. "Thank Hank, he's the one's gonna be getting my bill!"

"Oh dear," Myra sighed. "I owe him so much already."

"Sounds like you're about equal." Charlie grinned as she packed her things away into the briefcase. "I wouldn't worry about it, he doesn't seem to be."

Feeling much better about the whole situation, Myra saw Charlie out. Now she would just have to wait to see what happened after Horace received the divorce papers.

Horace didn't just roll over and sign the papers. He arrived at the club in a temper on Saturday afternoon, clutching the papers in one hand. Hank and Jake were in the bar unpacking crates of beer which had been delivered that morning when he charged in.

"Where's Myra?" Horace demanded.

"Hank…" Jake said warningly under his breath as his partner swung around to face Horace. Hank clenched his fists at his sides and scowled.

"She's upstairs studyin'," Jake said. "Whaddya want, Horace?"

"I wanna talk to her! She's still my wife!" Horace exclaimed.

"Not for much longer," growled Hank, taking a step forward. "What kinda man hits his wife, huh, Horace? Scared to pick on someone your own size?"

"Hank!" Jake stuck his hand out and gripped Hank's arm.

Suddenly the door swung open and Myra came in, stopping dead and raising her hand to her mouth with a gasp when she saw what was going on.

"Why don't ya take a swing at me, Hank?" Horace taunted. "Looks like you're dyin' to."

"Horace, what on earth are ya doin'?" cried Myra.

"Stay out of it," he snapped at her.

"I can't stay out of it, Horace, it's between you and me, not you and Hank."

Horace turned towards her, thrusting the divorce papers in his hand towards her. "Ya wanna explain this, Myra? It should be _me_ doin' the divorcin'. What would your fancy lawyer think about ya cheatin' on your husband and havin' another guy's kid?"

"That ain't how it was, Horace, ya know it wasn't," Myra protested.

"So you say."

Hank charged forward then, unable to control himself any longer. Before Horace had even turned his head to look at him, Hank's fist shot out and slammed into the side of Horace's head, knocking him sideways where he fell against the bar, only staying on his feet by clutching at the counter with both hands.

"Hank! For God's sake!" exclaimed Jake and flung his arms around Hank from behind, pinning his arms to his sides before his other fist added a second punch to the first.

"Get the hell off me, Jake!" snarled Hank, trying to shake his friend off and failing, although he wrenched one arm free.

Horace straightened himself up and actually laughed. "You've done it now," he said. "You're goin' back to jail, Hank! You mark my words!"

"No, he ain't." Jake now let go of Hank and stepped in front of him. "It's your word against three of us. And them two are gonna say it was me who hit ya." Much to everyone's surprise, Jake now thumped Horace in the stomach and when he bent over, gasping, followed it up with another punch in the face. Jake then backed off, brushing his hands together as if to wipe something unpleasant off them. "There, see?"

"Hell, Jake, don't interfere," Hank groaned.

"Oh, ya wanna go back to jail, do ya?" Jake glanced at him, eyebrows raised and then turned back to Horace. "Why don't ya just sign the papers, Horace, and we'll all forget about this?"

Horace glanced from one man to the other, opening his mouth to reply and then thinking better of it. He turned to look at Myra standing just inside the door, her eyes wide with horror and both hands over her mouth.

"Aw, you're welcome to each other," he said eventually. He straightened his clothes, bent to pick up the papers from the floor and unfolded them. "One of ya got a pen?"

Jake plucked one out of his jacket pocket and passed it to Horace without a word. Horace scanned through the pages, signed his name on three of them and then folded them up again. He walked to the door without a word, holding the documents out towards Myra.

"Here."

"Thank you," Myra whispered.

"Goodbye, Myra." Horace shoved the door open and left without looking at her or the two men again.


	27. Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Since Horace had signed the divorce papers, the whole procedure was wrapped up much more quickly than Myra expected. Charlie collected the papers from her and filed the divorce and within four weeks a final decree had been issued by a Judge. There were no complications given that Horace's apartment and most of the items in it belonged to him alone and Samantha wasn't his child. Myra didn't ask for anything from him so there was no argument over money or anything else and Horace didn't contact her again. The paperwork was simply processed and finalised and she received a letter confirming the marriage was dissolved.

Myra worked harder than ever at her courses over the next few weeks and took her business course examination in July, which she passed with flying colours. The computer course would continue until Christmas with an eight week break during the summer. Hank took the opportunity to surprise her once again by arranging a vacation to Florida for the first two weeks in August, inviting Zach who was then sixteen to go with them. They would fly from Denver to Orlando so they could take Samantha to Disneyland and then spend a couple of weeks in West Palm Beach in a luxury hotel.

"I ain't got a passport," Myra said worriedly.

Hank grinned. "Ya don't need one if you ain't leavin' the country, it's only a domestic flight."

"Oh."

"And don't say you ain't got nothin' to wear, we're gonna hit the stores this afternoon," Hank added.

"Ya spend far too much on me," Myra protested.

"You're worth it." Hank bent to give her a light kiss. "Come on, get your shoes on, time's wastin'."

As they strolled around the main shopping area, Hank pushing Samantha's buggy with one hand and gripping Myra's hand with the other, Myra couldn't help thinking that it all seemed like a dream. Hank was so different from the man she had always known and she kept glancing in store windows at their reflections, smiling to herself as she thought they looked like a family.

They visited the main department store and picked out numerous summer outfits for both Myra and Samantha. Myra was amazed that Hank left her to choose what she liked and didn't even make any suggestions except for one very small turquoise coloured bikini.

"It's tiny," Myra giggled.

"Yeah," grinned Hank, winking. "Smaller the better."

By the time they left the store, besides the bikini Myra had two short skirts and one long wrap-around one, two beach dresses and three for evenings, two pairs of shorts, half a dozen light summer tops, sandals, sunglasses, a beach bag and a huge brightly coloured towel with a seashell design on it. In addition they bought enough new clothes for Sam that she had a different outfit for every day of the trip including a couple of colourful cotton hats to protect her head from the sun. Myra added a huge bottle of sunscreen to the collection and Hank paid for the lot with a handful of fifty dollar bills.

As soon as they returned to the apartment, Myra set about cutting the tags off everything and packing the things along with some of her and Sam's existing clothes into a huge suitcase which Hank produced, her excitement about the trip mounting. Other than Coney Island with Horace, she had never been to the beach and she couldn't wait to play on the sand with Samantha and splash around in the sea.

The following morning, Jake helped load the cases into the Jeep and the three of them set off for Denver, planning to leave the car at the airport for the duration of the trip.

"We'll pick Zach up from his school on the way," Hank said. "I got some makin' up to do with him. I saw him right after I got outta jail for a couple hours, but that's been all since….I guess since that Christmas right before everything happened." He grimaced. "I called him from jail plenty of times. Kept tellin' him I was sick or too busy to visit. It's a wonder the kid don't hate me."

"Of course he don't hate ya," Myra said. "He'll have missed ya."

"Yeah." Hank sighed and then seemed to shake himself. "He's lookin' forward to meetin' Sam."

"Ya told him she's his sister?" asked Myra.

"Yeah. And that we're together. He's glad, he liked ya the coupla times he visited the club."

"Well, that's good since I guess I'm his…." Myra stopped short, flushing and looking down at her hands where they rested in her lap. "I mean…."

Hank grinned. "Step-mother?" he finished. "You are, more or less. Except that you're still called Bing. When are ya gonna change that, anyhow?"

Myra glanced at him curiously, wondering exactly what he was saying. Was he trying to find out in a roundabout way if she wanted to get married? Her heart jumped into her mouth.

"I dunno, I guess I can go back to my maiden name right away," she said.

"What about Sam?"

"I want her to have your name," Myra said at once. "Charlie said she could arrange it."

Hank nodded. "That'd be kinda weird though, her havin' a different name to you."

"Not really, I know a coupla families where the kids have the father's name 'cause the parents ain't married," Myra said, wondering if her voice really sounded strangled or if she was imagining it.

"Would you ever wanna get married again?" asked Hank, taking one hand off the steering wheel and wiping the palm on his jeans. Then he swapped hands and repeated the exercise with the other hand.

Myra smirked and bit her lip briefly. "I guess," she said casually, then added; "Sure I would. I ain't against bein' married, I just tried it with the wrong guy before."

Hank laughed too loudly and didn't say anything more, leaving Myra with her thoughts racing and a stomach full of butterflies. Was Hank thinking about asking her to marry him? It sure sounded like it although the subject didn't come again again for a few days and she was left wondering.

After collecting Zach from his school, Hank had driven to Denver airport and the four of them went to check in for their flight. Zach adored Samantha from the first minute he saw her and wanted to help Myra all the time with her. He proved to be an amazing older brother and happily held the little girl on his lap for the majority of the flight to Orlando. His confidence had improved hugely since the last time Myra had seen him almost three years before and he talked much more. He gave no indication of being upset with Hank for not having seen him in so long and obviously just enjoyed being part of a family.

The four of them spent three nights in a luxury suite in a hotel on International Drive and had one of the hotel chauffeurs drive them to Disneyland on two separate days. Myra was initially concerned that Samantha who was not yet two years old might be too young for the park, but Sam seemed to love everything, constantly fascinated by the activities around her. Hank had bought a fancy digital camera and Zach read the instructions from cover to cover and produced dozens of wonderful shots of everyone.

The following day Hank hired a similar vehicle to his own complete with baby seat and drove to the second hotel in West Palm Beach. The two reserved rooms overlooked the ocean, each having balconies where they could sit watching the turquoise sea lapping at the beautiful beach below.

The second afternoon, Zach spent hours playing with Samantha, building sandcastles and stopping every so often to plaster her with another layer of sunscreen much to Myra's delight. It meant she and Hank could have some time alone together without worrying about the baby.

Myra had spread out her huge new towel and lay on her back in the tiny bikini, eyes closed behind her sunglasses, soaking up the sun and daydreaming while Hank took photos of Zach and Sam from a distance and occasionally swung the camera in Myra's direction, snapping away until she was forced to protest. Hank put the camera down reluctantly and stretched out on the towel beside her, propping his head up with one hand.

"Ya reckon we can get Zach to entertain Sam long enough for me to get you outta this bikini?" he whispered, lowering his head to kiss her and stroking one finger along the side of her breast.

"Stop it," Myra giggled, pushing his hand away. "This is a family beach."

"That's alright, we're a family. Almost. Least we will be if ya marry me."

Myra gasped and lifted a hand to pull her sunglasses off so she could meet his eyes properly.

"Is that a proposal?" she asked, her heart pounding.

"It is if ya want it to be."

"You always said ya weren't the marryin' kind," Myra reminded him.

"Yeah, I said a lot of stupid stuff," Hank said. "I love ya, Myra. I want us to be a proper family. You, me, Sam and Zach."

"Me too," Myra said breathlessly. "And yes, I'll marry you."

"You said yes!" Hank exclaimed.

"Did ya really think I'd say no?" Myra slid her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

"I dunno. I hoped not," he said sheepishly, brushing his lips against hers gently. "I ain't never done this before."

Myra beamed. "Then I'm real lucky."

"I'm the lucky one." Hank pulled away now and sat up, pulling Myra up with him and gripping her hands tight. "What sorta weddin' would ya want?" he asked.

"I don't care," said Myra at once. "It ain't important, I just wanna be married to ya."

Hank grinned and kissed her again, but he didn't say anything else and moments later turned away as Zach called out to him. Myra squeezed his hand, then let go and got up to join Zach and Sam where they were paddling in the very edge of the water. Hank followed and the four of them splashed around for a while before returning to the hotel for dinner.


	28. Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The following day Myra slept in and when she opened her eyes and glanced at the clock she was surprised to find it was almost nine-thirty. She sat up quickly, assuming Hank must be in the bathroom, but then realised that she was alone in the room. He had apparently gone somewhere and taken Samantha with him. Shrugging and yawning, Myra went into the bathroom and took a long hot shower, then pulled on her robe and went out onto the balcony to see if she could see Hank down on the beach, but there was no sign of him. She picked up the telephone in the room and ordered herself some breakfast, then got dressed while she waited for it to arrive. She considered going next door to Zach's room to see if he wanted to join her, but then thought if Hank had gone somewhere he had probably taken Zach as well so she didn't bother.

Myra was just finishing her cinnamon waffles and coffee when the three of them returned, Zach carrying Samantha and both he and Hank grinning.

"What have you been upto?" she asked.

"Nothin' much, just lookin' around a coupla stores," Hank said. "Thought we'd let ya sleep longer."

Zach grinned wider but said nothing.

"Did ya buy anythin'?" asked Myra, noticing they appeared to be empty handed.

"Nah," said Zach.

"We did arrange a boat trip for today," Hank added as if as an after thought.

Myra glanced from one to the other, thinking they looked as guilty as if they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't, but they obviously weren't going to admit to anything else so she put it out of her mind.

Later that morning the four of them took a trip on a catamaran with perhaps ten other people. The vessel took them a couple of miles down the coast and then hovered over a reef where they could watch the sealife through the glass panels in the floor. Later they were taken to a large lively beach where a barbecue was in progress and a band played music and everyone fed on fresh caught and chargrilled seafood. Zach snapped away with the camera immortalising the outing and Myra relished every minute, finding it difficult to believe that she was in another part of the country, soaking up the sun with the man she loved and their children.

That night, slightly sunburnt despite the protection cream, Myra sat in the bathroom dabbing aloe vera on her shoulders and applying a hair mask to her hair which had become streaked blonde from the sun. She pampered herself for some time, then washed out the hair product and took her packet of pills out of her makeup bag to take one before going to bed.

"Myra?" Hank stuck his head around the door suddenly.

"I won't be a minute."

"Are ya sick?" he asked, glancing at the pills and frowning.

"No, they're contraceptives." She popped a pill out of the foil strip.

"You start takin' them recently?" asked Hank, looking slightly hurt.

"No, it was right after Sam was born."

"Oh. You didn't want another child?"

"I'd love for Sam to have a brother or sister. Horace didn't want no more kids," Myra said.

"Well, you ain't with Horace no more," Hank reminded her, stepping into the bathroom. "Ya still want another baby?"

"Yes," Myra said at once.

Hank grinned and reached out to take the pills from her hand before she could swallow one. "Let's get rid of these then, shall we?" He threw the pack into the waste bin, turned off the light and drew Myra out of the bathroom and towards the bed.

Myra was woken the next morning at eight o'clock by the telephone beside the bed ringing. Puzzled she sat up, noticing that once again Hank and Samantha were both missing. She picked up the telephone.

"Yes?"

"Good morning, this is your wake up call," a female voice said. "Have a nice day."

The line went dead. Myra's eyebrows rose and she put the receiver back down. What on earth was going on? She threw the sheet back and slid out of bed, her eyes landing on a covered tray sitting on the table across the room. Lifting the cloth, she discovered an insulated jug of coffee and a cold breakfast of muffins and fruit along with a note: '_Eat, then dress – outfit in bathroom. Be ready at ten. Hx'_

Smiling, Myra headed for the bathroom first, unable to hold back her curiosity. She pushed the door open and didn't immediately see anything different until she realised something was hanging on the back of the door. A long white opaque bag was hooked on one of the bathrobe pegs and Myra's eyes widened as she looked down and saw a pair of ivory satin shoes sitting in the corner. Beside them sat a plastic bag and she looked inside this first. It held a pair of new white silk panties trimmed with lace, fine silk hold-up stockings with white lace tops and two boxes; one long and flat and the other deeper and square shaped. Opening them, she discovered a string of pearls and a delicate pair of pearl earrings in one and a hair decoration in the other with a comb attachment to fasten it to her hair and an array of silk flowers and pearls.

Myra's heart began to thump wildly, her breath catching in her throat as she turned to look inside the long white bag on the door. It held a strapless, floor-length ivory satin dress, simple, sheer and unadorned, its bodice fitted and the skirts long and straight. Tears sprang into her eyes as she touched the dress in wonder.

"Oh, Hank," she murmured. "It's so beautiful."

Brushing away her tears, she took everything into the bedroom before stepping into the shower. Then while she waited for her hair to dry, she sat on the balcony sipping coffee and trying to eat a little breakfast although she had to force herself to swallow each bite while her heart pounded and her hands shook with a combination of nerves and excitement. She had no idea how Hank had managed to arrange for them to get married so fast, unless he had done something about it before they even came to Florida in the hopes she would say yes.

Giving up on the food, she put the plate down and finished the coffee, gazing dreamily out at the sea and giggling foolishly to herself with delight.

By nine-thirty Myra was just putting the finishing touches to her outfit. The dress fitted perfectly, the shoes were exactly her size and as comfortable as slippers. She put on the necklace and earrings and pinned her hair up, leaving loose tendrils around her neck and attached the comb to the coiled hair on the top so that the flowers were arranged on the crown. Adding a touch of pink lipstick she stood back and looked at herself in the large bedroom mirror from all angles, then paced nervously, glancing at the clock every few seconds as the hands crawled around towards ten o'clock. She was really getting married!

At exactly ten o'clock there was a knock on the door and Myra opened it quickly, finding Zach standing outside wearing a tuxedo with crisp white shirt and red bow tie, holding a neat bouquet of deep pink roses tied with white silk ribbons and the camera hanging on its strap from his shoulder. He beamed from ear to ear as he passed the flowers to Myra.

"Are ya nervous?" he asked.

"Very," said Myra with a giggle.

"You should see Dad. Ain't never seen him so worried," grinned Zach. "Thinks he rushed things too much and you ain't gonna turn up. Thinks you might be mad with him for doin' this without tellin' ya."

"Aww," smiled Myra. "Of course I ain't mad. He kinda mentioned somethin' a few days back so I been hopin'. I'm amazed he managed to arrange it so fast though."

"We did it yesterday," said Zach. "Went to the courthouse. If they got a free slot and there's a Justice of the Peace available you only gotta fill some forms in and produce ID."

"Didn't they need my ID?" asked Myra.

"We had it. Dad took it outta your purse," smirked Zach. "It was real simple. They got a free appointment at eleven today. After it was sorted we went shoppin'. We better go."

"Where's your Dad and Samantha?" asked Myra, following him out of the room and closing the door.

"In the lobby waitin' for the car. We got a limo." Zach punched the elevator call button and the doors sprang open seconds later.

Within moments they were stepping out into the lobby where Hank was waiting, Samantha in his arms. Hank wore an identical suit to Zach and Samantha was dressed in a pink satin dress and little white satin slippers. Myra struggled not to cry as she and Zach walked over to them. The boy took Samantha from his father and Hank took Myra's hand and pulled her towards him.

"Wasn't sure if I was doin' this all wrong," he said. "I kept thinkin' maybe you'd prefer a church or somethin'. Maybe you'd prefer to choose things yourself."

"Like I said, I don't care so long as we're married," beamed Myra. "I can't believe you arranged all this without me knowin'."

"Weren't easy," grinned Hank. "Is the dress ok?"

"It's perfect."

"You look beautiful," Hank murmured.

"Dad! Car's here," Zach interrupted then, pointing through the rotating doors to a white stretch limousine adorned with pink ribbons.

"Let's go." Hank gripped Myra's hand tighter and led her out to the car, Zach following with the baby.

The journey to the courthouse took less than ten minutes and once there, Myra was required to sign a form given that she hadn't been present when the marriage had been arranged. Afterwards there was a short wait before they were summoned into a large room. Much to Myra's amazement, Jake and Emma were already sitting there waiting, Jake dressed to match Hank and Zach, and Emma wearing a pink silk dress and a hat. She immediately got up and came over to Myra while Hank went to speak to Jake.

"I can't believe this is happenin'!" gasped Myra. "When did ya get here?"

"'Bout two hours ago," Emma said. "We flew down this mornin'. I was real surprised when Jake called and invited me." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I never thought I'd see Hank tie the knot."

"Me neither," Myra giggled.

"Ya look real happy. Happier than when you was with Horace."

"I am."

Emma drew away again as the Justice of the Peace entered the room and took her place next to Jake in the front row of seating behind the small platform where the justice halted. Zach passed Samantha to Emma and led Myra to Hank before taking up his position the other side of his father. After a moment the Justice began to speak.

"We are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Hank and Myra in marriage. This union is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and solemnly. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

A moment of silence followed during which no one spoke. The only thing Myra could hear was her own heart pounding fit to burst as she gripped her flowers tightly and hoped she would be able to think of something suitable to say if she was called upon to speak without following what the Justice said. She became aware of him speaking again and realised it was now time for the vows. Hank took her hand and she looked up into his eyes as he began to talk.

"I, Hank, take you, Myra, to be my wife; before these witnesses I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both live. I promise to be there when you need me, to fill your days with sunshine, to comfort you and encourage you, to help you reach your goals, to be your best friend and to love you all my life with all my heart."

Myra's eyes swam with tears of happiness and Emma suddenly reached out and pushed a dainty lace hankerchief into her hand. She dabbed carefully at the corners of her eyes and took a deep breath, then began to speak. With nothing rehearsed, she copied Hank's first line and then spoke with her heart, remembering everything that had happened between them since she had returned to the Gold Nugget to ask for help. What had happened before that no longer mattered.

"I, Myra, take you, Hank, to be my husband. Before these witnesses I vow to love you and care for you as long as we both live. I will help you when you need it and step aside when you don't. I will remain faithful to you for better or worse, in times of sickness and health; I will never let you down. You are my best friend and I will love and respect you always."

Hank smiled broadly and gazed at her adoringly, almost crushing her hand in his as she finished.

"Who has the rings?" the Justice asked then.

Zach held out a small box containing a pair of matching gold rings, one larger than the other.

"Hank, take the ring, place it on Myra's finger and repeat after me…"

Hank carefully picked up the smaller ring, took Myra's left hand and slid it onto the third finger.

"I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you."

Hank repeated the words softly.

"Myra…." prompted the Justice.

She picked up the larger ring, smirking slightly as she heard a loud sniff from Emma.

"I give you this ring…" repeated the Justice.

Myra slid the ring onto Hank's finger, a little surprised he wanted to wear one.

"I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you," she finished.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the Justice said. "You may kiss the bride."

Hank bent to kiss her and she closed her eyes, sliding her arms around his neck, dimly aware of Zach snapping away repeatedly with the camera. When they eventually drew apart, Zach and Jake came over to congratulate them, Emma rising slowly with Samantha in one arm, dabbing at her face with a hankerchief similar to that she had given Myra.

All that was left to do was for Hank and Myra to sign a registry book. The Justice passed Hank the pen first and he scrawled untidily, then gave it to Myra. For the first time she signed 'Myra Lawson.'


	29. Chapter 29

EPILOGUE

CHRISTMAS DAY 2002

Myra checked on Samantha one more time and then quietly closed the bedroom door. The club had closed at midnight and Hank had left Jake to lock up, hurrying up to the apartment to see Myra, the pair of them as excited as children about exchanging gifts.

Myra was overwhelmed by her main present from Hank and several times since receiving it she had run to the window to peer down into the compound below. After returning from Florida, Hank had arranged for her to have driving lessons with one of Robert E's acquaintances and she had taken two-hour lessons every week day in order to get her license quickly. Much to her delight she had passed the test first time at the end of September.

With Samantha's second birthday approaching and then Hank's birthday in November followed by Myra's computer course examination, she hadn't thought much about driving after that or of having her own car, so when Hank led her outside as Christmas Eve slid into Christmas Day, unlocked the compound gate and handed her the keys to a brand new bright purple Mini with white racing stripes on the hood, she had screamed in delight and leapt off the ground into his arms.

Myra had given Hank a beautiful wristwatch which she'd had engraved on the back with, 'All my love forever - Myra.' He had put it on immediately and said it was the best gift he'd ever received.

Now Myra waited for Hank to finish in the bathroom so she could give him one last present, a secret which she had been holding with great difficulty for the past week. She sat down on the edge of the bed, hugging herself and grinning as she waited for him.

"What are you smilin' about?" he asked, leaving the bathroom and joining her on the bed.

"I got one more surprise for ya," she said, sliding her hand into his.

"Oh yeah? I thought we'd done all the gifts."

"Not quite." She grinned wider.

"Well, come on, I'm dyin' of curiosity here!" exclaimed Hank.

Myra lifted his hand up and placed it on her stomach. "I'm pregnant," she said.

Hank's eyes widened. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, I saw Dr Mike last week. She confirmed it."

"How long?" asked Hank.

"Five weeks. I got a scan booked for the New Year."

"Oh my God!" Hank wrapped his arms around her. "This is amazin'!"

"I know, I didn't think it'd happen this quick," Myra said. "Dr Mike said sometimes if you've been takin' the pill it takes a while for it to get outta your system. I hope it's a boy. I'd love to have a boy this time."

"Yeah, me too." Hank scooped Myra up off the edge of the bed and laid her in the middle of it, then lay down and pulled the quilt over them, holding her gently. "I love you," he said. "Never thought I'd ever be this lucky."

"Me neither." Myra slid her arm around his neck and kissed him softly. "I love you too."


End file.
